Rise and Fall
by redraisin
Summary: Sequel to Ashes. This deals with the aftermath and what happens next for Paige and Alex. palex dramagoodness.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: This fic is the sequel to Ashes, and while not essential that you read that one first, this one will make a whole lot more sense if you do. I thought really long and hard about doing a sequel, but in the end decided that there is more to this story that I want to tell. And also I really don't see anymore Palex on the cards for season 6 (moan) so I like to think about what could have been. This is from Alex's POV. As always, feedback is most welcomed/appreciated.**

**Rise and Fall**

**Chapter One**

There is an angel on my shoulder. For a miniscule heartbeat I watch her dozing peacefully. Not in a creepy way. In a respectful, awe-filled, how the hell can you sleep with your head flailing around like a bladder on a stick while we're trapped in a tin-can on wheels overnight, kind of a way. But I know that she likes her sleep. I know that she does her utmost to get it too. And I know that any second this innocent looking state of grace is going to be transformed into early morning commando woman. It's tempting to leave her be. But that would mean a return trip to back where we started. And, afterall, neither of us traveled 500 miles for nothing.

I lean down to her ear, hearing the very gentle murmuring of her shallow breathing into my shirt as I do. God I love her, love her, love her…

"Paige," I whisper, "Paige, we're here."

I move my shoulder a little as she stirs suddenly in that way people do when they didn't realize they'd fallen asleep.

She looks at me blearily, with a slightly confused smile and then slowly around the bus, and finally out the window. We're pulling into the depot and the other passengers start to surface, gather their stuff together, get back to real life.

New York city. It's about as real as it gets.

"Mmm," she mumbles, "where…?" I can sense her mental cogs are grinding more slowly than normal this morning. Well that's to be forgiven. It's been a pretty crazy couple of life-changing days.

"Oh my God, we're here?" something close to recollectance begins to dawn on her face as she looks up at me expectantly and then immediately sits up, her hands manically smoothing her tousled hair.

"Yeah, we're here," I can't help but grin back. We are actually going to do this. Embark on one big adventure together. Three weeks ago Paige was little more than a stranger to me. We'd gone our separate ways, started new lives, or an approximation of them. I was living with my cousin in New York, finishing up an internship for a big publishing house, fooling around with my boss and generally trying not to over-think anything or fuck up. She was doing her big deal business degree at Banting, Canada's answer to Harvard, as I had been oh so frequently reminded back in our glory days. We hadn't seen each other since Christmas, we hadn't really spoken.

But then my mother died and everything changed. I went back to cremate her and scatter her ashes. That was it. That was all. That whole book of chapters was now done. Or so I thought. But it's harder than I reckoned. I mean, I didn't really know what to think, I still don't. But…she was there. She came back to me. She's come back _with_ me. And here we are…

"Oh my God, we're really here?" she starts to squeal and grabs my hand excitedly.

"Oh yeah," I assure here leaning in for a good morning kiss.

"Wow…Oh god, honey no, I haven't brushed my teeth in like ten hours," she fobs me off as she searches her pockets for what I can only suppose is gum.

The bus eventually comes to a halt and instantly everyone is up on their feet, stretching and crowding the aisle, picking up all their bags and shit.

"Come on," I nudge her out of her seat, "this in New York, no dilly-dallying."

"Oh, right," she says with a bemused look as she hauls her totally conspicuous pink suitcase into the aisle.

We all shuffle off the bus in varying degrees of wonder and agitation relating to the novelness of our surroundings. Although the agitation quickly descends over all of us as they take an age unloading all our luggage from the hold.

"Why the fuck is this taking so long?" I mutter, running my hand through my now greasy feeling hair. I suddenly realize that after sitting on my ass for hours on end I'm exhausted.

"Hey cranky, calm down," Paige says wrapping her arms around me as she looks about excitedly. Her expression is that of a puppy getting it's first whiff of the outside. It's sort of unexpectedly adorable.

I lean in to her embrace and it feels so warm and good that I feel I could just drift off right there. She hugs me tighter as I perch my chin on her shoulder.

"God, I just feel in need of a shower," I say and she murmurs in agreement. "I'm so tired. We can just go back to bed when we get home."

"Hey, I slept on the bus," she annoyingly points out as she breaks her hold. "Just point me to the coffee pot and I'm ready to go."

"Oh," I yawn, unprepared for this sudden, but not altogether unfamiliar perkiness. "Well, whatever."

I eventually get hold of my bags and we head on to my cousin's apartment. The easiest thing would be to get the subway, but I can't be bothered lugging my bag and Paige's suitcase (which I have mysteriously ended up pulling) down all those stairs. I settle on a cab, but as usual it's the early morning rush and flagging one down is proving annoyingly difficult.

"Come on, let's just start walking," I suggest, trying not to sound bad tempered.

"Okay," Paige replies, still acting like she's high on something. Her eyes are roving everywhere as she skips around in delight. "What's that?" she keeps on asking, as her arms point to various architectural wonders. My general disinterest makes me realize that perhaps I'm not going to make the best tour-guide for her. Eventually I just start making stuff up.

"That's the Met," and, "that's Trump Tower." It amuses me for a while as she seems to be buying it. But when I try and pass off Tower Records as Carnegie Hall I get an icy glare and a "Don't push it hun," which pretty much shuts me up.

At last we manage to hail a cab and bundle ourselves in.

"78th street and 3rd," I tell the driver.

"Right you are," he says as we go screeching off.

"Ooh is that where we live?" Paige asks, squeezing my arm.

"It is now," I tell her, unable to hide my Cheshire-cat grin. My god, I'm actually going to live with my girlfriend. This is unbelievably cool. She'll be there every night when I go to sleep. And every morning when I wake up.

"Shouldn't we have called your cousin?" Paige breaks my reverie with a little cold slap of reality.

"Oh, er-nah!" I try and shrug it off.

"But you said on the bus, that you would have to call him to tell him about me before we got there."

Okay this was true. Paige had surprised me by jumping onto the bus to come with me at the last possible second. Leaving my cousin totally unaware that I would not be returning alone.

"No, look Paige, it's fine. It's totally cool."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I seem to be convincing myself at any rate. "Yeah it's cool. Don't worry, he's cool."

"Really? 'Cos I don't want him to hate me from the get-go."

"No, baby, seriously. It's cool. He will totally love you, I promise. Seriously. Everything will be cool. It's cool."

It was not cool.

We arrived as Jaime was getting ready to leave for work. The cab driver had seriously ripped me off, but by now I was too tired to argue. I ended up lugging our stuff up all six flights of stairs myself while Paige looked at the building in dejected bewilderment. I'm not sure exactly what she had been expecting, but despite it flirting with the upper East side, evidently Sex and the City this was not.

"Alex! Glad to have you back! Sorry I'm literally out the door-" Needless to say, this is the point at which he noticed Paige. Suddenly it isn't so good to see me.

"Paige? As in Paige your ex, Paige?" he asks, still seeming confused.

No, another Paige that I just picked up on the street on my way home, I want to snap back. I am feeling pretty damn testy by this point.

I explain as briefly as I can the whole Paige and I reuniting, her suddenly jumping on the bus story while Paige wisely and somewhat unexpectedly chooses to remain silent.

Jaime spends the whole time looking uncomfortable. I guess we have put him on the spot pretty much. But he's having none of it.

"Look, Alex, we just haven't the room," he tries, which is, I think, rather lame. I tell him so.

"Come on Jaime, we've got two bedrooms, she'll be in with me, it's not gonna impact on your space at all." Of course, knowing Paige, and her entourage of accessories this is a blatant lie. But I'm a convincing liar.

"And what are you going to do in New York anyways?" this is the first time he has addressed Paige. She looks slightly flustered.

"She's going to study," I reply for her. "What's it matter anyway?"

"It matters because we've got rent to pay, bills to pay, and three people equals more of them."

"I'm going to work too," Paige suddenly blurts out. "I totally intend to pay my own way. I mean, I wouldn't dream of barging into your home and not. Oh, and I'm totally into cleaning, seriously I'm a clean freak. But-not in an obsessive annoying kind of way. Oh, and I can cook-"

"Okay, okay," Jaime says, holding up his hands and at last cracking a smile. "Look, I'm still not saying yes, but I really gotta get to work, so we can discuss it later alright?"

"If by later, you mean….we'll see how it goes?" I coax him.

"Aah! It's too early for this shit," he answers, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm really going now. You can carry her over the threshold or whatever it is you ladies do."

He exits down the stairs as Paige and I exchange looks and both give audible sighs of relief.

"Don't worry, just my bag will do," she winks at me as she heads on in over the proverbial threshold.

We flop down simultaneously on the couch. "See, I told you he'd be cool," I say dead-pan.

She laughs and swats my arm playfully. "Poor guy!" she says, "we didn't give him much option."

I have to agree with this. But the first obstacle is over with. I'm back home in my new abode, with my old girlfriend beside me. I absently go to stroke her hair and she leans in to me as I do.

"I'm so glad you're here," I whisper to her.

"Me too," she replies, looking up at me.

I lean in for my now long-overdue good-morning kiss.

An inch apart she whispers to me, "I still haven't brushed my teeth."

"I don't care," I say, and kiss her anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I'm walking down a deserted street that I don't quite recognize. There's something vaguely familiar about it that makes me think I've been here before. It's dusk and the air feels thick and humid, weighing down on me and making every step an effort. I'm not entirely sure what my destination is but I definitely have one. Even though my pace is slow, there seems to be intent about my direction. I notice that the ocean lies on my left and there's something about that which makes me feel uneasy. I'm pretty sure it's not meant to be there.

After a short time I come to a building that looks like an apartment block, quite grand and old fashioned. I've never been inside, but it seems apparent that this is where I have been heading all along. I want to go in and see what it's like, but my feet are suddenly aching and my shoes feel tight. I bend down and unlace them, leaving them on a low brick wall, which borders the sidewalk. I look about to make sure they'll be okay, there are people out walking now, strolling aimlessly. I am the only one on my own. But it's okay. There's someone waiting for me inside that apartment block. I think maybe it's her, and the mere thought is enough to speed up my heart rate.

But as I look down again my shoes have disappeared. The shock overtakes my excitement and I start looking about wildly. The crowds seemed to have thickened, couples walking everywhere and shoes line the wall intermittently, all neatly paired, none of them mine.

My heart is thundering away now as panic has taken over. The realization that there is a thief in my midst. I head down to the shore where it's less crowded, but they're easy to spot. Three of them, walking along nonchalantly, one sniggering away. He's the one, I know it and my blood starts to boil as the panic is quickly burned up by the anger now rising within me.

I head over to them briskly before they have a chance to escape. I notice that they're only teenagers, the one with the laugh and the bag looks no more than a kid. There's an older one, who looks weary and unamused and another, whose face I can't make out.

"Give me back my shoes!" I demand with all the venom I can muster.

The youngest looks around and grins at me, knowingly.

"Give 'em back!" I try again in desperation and the oldest seems to take notice of this.

"Come on man, give 'em back to her," he says to the other. I'm not sure if they're brothers, they look like they could be.

I feel powerless now, but silently thankful to the older for his influence.

The younger relents, taking the bag from his shoulder and bending down he opens it.

"Are these yours?" he asks with a smirk, pulling out a pair of flip-flops.

"No," I say, surprised, as I was certain it was him that stole them. But he proceeds to pull out more and more pairs, asking if they're mine. Every time I'm surprised that there's still room for another pair to be in that small bag, but every time the disappointment cuts me further. There's no sneakers, like the ones I had been wearing, only pumps, boots and flip-flops.

The three get bored and leave me to it and I empty the bag on the ground, a knot of nausea rising from my stomach. They're not there. Another girl comes up and finds her pair with a flicker of relief before disappearing. But mine are totally gone. The last thing I remember is the feeling of regret at having taken them off in the first place. Looking back, it hadn't seemed necessary. And now they were lost forever…

"Aaaalex," she sings my name with affection, tucking my hair behind my ear as I try and focus on her.

The room comes into view, but nothing makes sense. I'm not in Canada anymore, but Paige is with me…

"Hun, you will not sleep tonight if I let you sleep any longer," she whispers gently.

And with that I'm back in New York, with my girlfriend, having just rolled in that morning.

"Mmm," I manage to curl an arm around her and pull her towards me. "Well, what makes you think I was planning on sleeping tonight?"

She laughs at this, she knows me too well. But she lets the implication remain, which gives me some hope.

"Sorry," I begin again wiping the sleep from my eyes. "Didn't me to just flake out on you as soon as we got here."

"You're forgiven. You didn't sleep on the bus."

"Uh huh. What time is it?"

"About two o'clock."

"Jesus! Really?" I hadn't meant to have slept that long. I hate it when that happens, you feel like the day's been robbed from you.

"Aw, I'm really sorry baby," I repeat as I start to sit up on the bed.

"Don't worry," she assures me, kissing my forehead. "I've been busy planning all the things I want to do."

"Really?" I yawn, unsurprised at this preparation. Only the night before she had refuted her planning ways, expressing her intention to be more impulsive. That lasted long.

"Man, I had this crazy-assed dream," I tell her as I start to get up and admire the suitcase which appears to have been unpacked and its contents neatly arranged into piles on my floor.

"Yeah?" she's disappearing now and for an infinitesimal moment my heart lurches at the thought she won't return. But I can hear her making coffee in the kitchen so it's okay.

"Yeah," I call out, "about shoes…" I'm racking my brains now trying to remember the dream that just seconds ago had seemed so indelible on my mind. It's fading now with every passing moment, leaving me with its impression rather than anything tangible. I scratch my head in confusion as Paige re-enters with mugs of coffee for us both.

She perches on the end of the bed and sips hers, looking at me expectantly.

There's something about the dream that won't go away. The details are now so sketchy, but the emotions I had in it, the panic and anxiety, the sudden sickness, feel like I had just experienced them for real.

"What about shoes?" she asks absently.

"What? Oh, I can't really remember. I was looking for some, I think."

"Ooh, does this mean you're going to start taking an interest in your wardrobe?" There is more than a hint of excitement in her voice.

"Yes dear. That's exactly what it means. All those hours of brainwashing me while I'm asleep have finally paid off."

"Ha ha," she replies, with equal sarcasm. Bu then adds somewhat coyly, "But now that we're talking about looking for shoes…I was wondering…"

I so know what's coming. New York City. Fashionatas. Paige. Life has never seemed more predictable.

"How far are we from Madison Avenue?" she's walking her fingers up my thigh as she says this. As if I'm dumb enough to fall for her sex ploys.

"So that's where you want to go is it?" I ask as she wraps her arms around my neck.

"Mm-hmm," she concedes before sealing it with a kiss. "That's where I wanna start."

"You don't even want me to show you the sights first?" I inquire, trying to determine in my own head which is the lesser of the two evils.

"There's plenty of time for all of it," she reminds me.

That thought is enough to quell any apprehension that had been bubbling at the back of my mind. We do have time. She's here now and not going anywhere. Well, not unless Jaime turns into the antichrist and kicks her out, but I'll make sure that doesn't happen. So this is it, life together, starting out.

"What do you think of the apartment then?" I ask, suddenly eager to gauge her impression of our new home.

"It's, well it's cosy," she replies with hesitancy.

"You mean small."

"Well, yeah."

"I know. It is. I warned you though."

"You could do with some more closet space," she says, indicating her stuff on the floor.

"Look, I'll sort it out, okay. I can make more room in the closet and, oh we can go pick up one of those clothes rails," I get to my feet with this thought, the idea of buying stuff together for both of us seeming suddenly, dare I say it, exciting.

Paige looks at me amused. "Are you actually willingly now suggesting we go shopping? Because, y'know, I'm saving this mental image for a more appropriate time when I can use it against you."

"Come here," I grab her wrists and pull her up to her feet. We have a nice long toothpastey kiss.

"Very nice," I praise her Colgate attention for which I get my ass slapped. I laugh. "Do you want to go then?"

"Yes. Let's go shop. God I have no money though!" She senses my apprehension at hearing this and quickly adds, "Only until my loan comes in. Don't worry. I will have money. And I meant what I said to your cousin. I will get a job."

I'm rummaging around for my keys, all the practicalities now flooding back and overwhelming me. Why can't we go back to thinking about clothing racks and sex all night?

"But your loan, I mean, if you don't go back to university next semester, can you still get one?"

"Yeah, well, I mean I am planning on transferring this year if I can, so…" she trails off, evidently also not liking this little dose of reality that has cropped up between us.

At last I locate my keys, right next to the damn bed all along-why am I always looking in the wrong places? I don't want to think about all of this right now, but once started the effect seems to be snowballing.

"My internship is gonna be up soon," I declare, almost thinking aloud. She nods. "I don't know what's going to happen after. I mean, before, I was told that sometimes jobs become available in the department that they recruit internally for."

All this June had told me. June, my supervisor, my fling or affair or whatever it was to be called. I had never managed to quite put my finger on what we were. Of course all that now would pretty much just be trouble. Another little practicality that I'd have to work out somehow…

"Well, do you think there could be something coming up you could go for?" She's gone into organized Paige mode again, thinking ahead, planning my pay cheque.

"I dunno," I try to sound dismissive, not wanting to get her hopes up, or mine. "I mean, generally they want the experience and the college education with it so…" June had told me she could put in a good word for me, told me she could see my potential. Of course, my hand was down her pants at the time, not sure if she'd have any good words for me now.

It's almost as if Paige can sense I'm thinking about her. "Look, let's not dwell on it now," she affirms taking my hand and leading me out the room. "We've got the rest of the weekend before we have to start getting real."

"The Real World - New York City," I can't help but say.

"Starring Paige and Alex. Now that would be a show worth watching." She pokes me to prompt my agreement.

"Alright alright, well how's about we go check out the neighbourhood first. There's a deli round the corner and I'm starving. Then, if you're very good," she clasps her hands together and flutters her eyelashes at this, "We can head on over to Madison. Ogle all the stuff you can't afford to buy."

"Yey!" she exclaims in unconcealed delight as we make to head out.

But as we leave the apartment the remnants of my dream start to resurface. Only faintly, but enough for me to have to make a conscious effort to focus on what it is I'm about to do. And yet despite this, I can't shake the feeling that I'm closing the door on something I won't be able to get back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

For someone with no money, my girl sure can spend a lot. We spent our entire afternoon lurching from one department store to another, taking in all the boutiques along the way. Of course most of it was just window-shopping. There was no way I was crazy enough to let Paige loose on Prada and all those big hitters that line-up on Madison Avenue.

"Please! Pleeeease!" she whined at me, pulling on my hand like a five year-old. But I just about managed to stand my ground.

"Look, you go on in if you want a look, but I'm staying out here," I said firmly. This was my one and only tactic for securing a time limit to her card-abusing ways. She looked desperately through the gates of Judith Ripka, Marimekko and various other exotically named places, before I lost her to some woman called Betsey Johnson. Well, I think it's a woman, I'd never heard of her/him/it. But Paige had been pushing 45 minutes in there and at last I had to follow her in to see what kind of mad hit-and-run she was trying to pull.

But as the assistant swiped her card, I appeared to be too late.

"What are you doing?" I say in a low voice as I come up to her.

"Hi hun," she offers me a not-so-guilty smile, oblivious to my waiting as she continues, "I have just found _the _most stunning dress."

I think I inadvertently roll my eyes at this because she leans in to me and adds quietly, "Relax, it was on sale."

"That's $305.25," says the assistant, which prompts a barely concealed glare back at Paige.

"That's a sale?" I question with my eyebrows raised challengingly.

She signs off on her card before taking hold of her precious cargo and ushering me out by my elbow. "Look, just relax," she hisses under her breath, "I just wanted to have one nice thing from New York, okay?" We're out on the street again and I can see that she was worried I'd show her up in there.

Personally, I think it's all bullshit. All these trendy exclusive boutiques and fashion houses. They are not for the likes of people like us, that is clear as day. But on the other hand, I know how much she likes her clothes and stuff and it is her first day in New York. It would be beyond stupid to have a fight about this now.

"Look, Paige, if you think you can afford it, buy what you want, okay? I really don't care."

"Alex," her eyes soften as she strokes my arm, "Don't be like that." Evidently I was being like something I wasn't aware of.

"Like what? I'm serious. It's just earlier you were telling me you had no money, that's all. But like I said, if you reckon you can swing it…" I shrug and raise my palms skyward in defeat.

"Yeah, but I want you to care," she says taking my hand. Jesus! Women! You really can't win sometimes.

We start to walk off together, her swinging her oversized bag with glee and still trying to suck up to me as she links her arm through mine.

"It really is a very _very_ nice dress," she assures me.

"Yeah, well at $300 it should be," I reply dismissively, but she ignores this and continues.

"It's really hot. Really sexy. You'll love it on me, I promise."

She sounds so cute as she tries to convince me that I can't help but respond, "I'll love it off you more." I glance at her as I say it and she seems unable to resist the smile forming on her face or the slight blush rising to her cheeks as she looks away again.

We both laugh a little and any tension that there was quickly dissipates.

Having exhausted ourselves walking up and down Madison before heading over to 7th Avenue for yet more card bashing, which in fairness she keeps to a minimum, we return home armed with dinner supplies.

We stow our stuff away, I had even managed to pick up some drawers and a rail for our room on the way back, and make our way into the kitchen.

"The way to Jaime's heart," I school Paige, "like most men…the stomach. So, if we're gonna get him on side, if you want to stay here, I reckon, hmmm…spaghetti bolognese will do for tonight."

"Well, that's not exactly hard," she concedes.

"Nah, but space in this kitchen isn't exactly forthcoming. Keep it simple, get it right, and give him the largest portion and hey presto, you're home free."

"Right," she gives a determined nod, looking around the small counter top as if pans and ingredients might spring forth at any given second. She looks up at me then with an expression approaching panic, "Wait…Am I doing this on my own?"

"You were the one who said you can cook, remember?" I not so kindly remind her. But her flustering melts me a little and I unpack the food from the bag and show her where the pots and pans are and how to use the stove.

"Okay? Now he'll be back in about 20 minutes so you might want to hop to it," I give her ass an affectionate pat as I slink off to try and assemble the drawers we had bought earlier.

"Okay, okay," I hear her nervously assent as I disappear.

Jaime eventually comes home, but can't do his usual emptying of pockets onto the table as it has been set for dinner.

He raises his eyebrows at this as he sees Paige dishing up in the kitchen. "Well," he offers in surprise, "I guess no TV dinner tonight then."

"I made spaghetti," Paige says as I return a screwdriver to the kitchen drawer.

"Smells good," Jaime says warmly before eyeing me suspiciously, "What you doing?"

"Storage assembly," I answer, waggling my fingers.

Paige brings the plates over to the table as Jaime fishes out some beers from the fridge. He offers me one, as usual, which I take. Paige declines.

He eyes us both as we all sit down and laughs, "So, do you two always have such clearly defined butch-femme roles?"

I laugh at this, "Nah, usually she's the one bossing me around."

"Like every good wife should," he nods in her direction and Paige just smiles nervously. I guess this is the way with family. Especially Jaime and me. We're so used to each other's humour that we probably aren't aware of how it comes across to an outsider.

"He's just teasing," I assure her as I pick up my fork, "He's not really an ass."

"Paige, this is delicious," he adds as he tucks into the meal at full pelt. This noticeably relaxes her and the conversation starts to flow naturally as we ask him about his day at work and he inquires as to our afternoon.

Eventually, when the plates are cleared and Paige has gone to have a shower, we sit down together on the couch. As honest a guy as he is, obviously he doesn't want to speak entirely openly in front of Paige just yet. And I'm eager to hear his appraisal of her and to make sure he's going to support this new living situation.

"So, you seem to like her," I begin.

"Yeah, I like her, she seems a real sweet girl." It please me more than I had thought to hear him say this. "But Alex…" uh-oh, there's a 'but'. "I wanna hear how you're doing. Y'know, you haven't even mentioned your mom."

I don't really know what to say to this. My natural reaction is just to reply, "I'm doing good," and I try to leave it at that.

"Y'know, I felt really bad that I couldn't go with you, for the funeral. I honestly just couldn't get the time off-"

"It's okay," I interrupt him, "I understand." I don't like it when Jaime goes all serious and earnest on me. He's better when we're making fun off each other or he's getting angry at something. He's one of those big, loud guys. He's a bear of a man, all grizzly and snarky, but full of warmth and fuzz. This serious side just makes me uncomfortable.

"How was it? Dealing with everything on your own?"

I just nod non-comittally. "I managed, y'know."

"Right," he says gently, "And Social Services, did they come through in the end. Did you do the stuff I told you?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Thanks. I mean, I spent like a day hounding them when they sent me the wrong forms, but your advice really helped. It all got sorted out."

"Good." I'm hoping this will be enough. I don't fancy a huge heart-to-heart about this with him. With anybody really. I can't be dealing with it in front of people, even my cousin. I broke down once in front of Paige and it was mortifying. I mean, I honestly couldn't help it, but still…if I need to fall to pieces I'd rather go off and do it on my own.

"Look, Alex, I understand about you needing someone to be there for you right now, and that maybe Paige is someone you feel you can open up to more…" He trails off a bit, searching for words.

"She was there for me Jaime. Back in Toronto, she really helped me."

"Yeah, that's really great. And I get that it must be a – a comfort, I guess, having her around at the moment, while you deal with, well, while you grieve…"

"What?" I butt in to his meandering monologue, "I love her Jaime. That's why I'm with her."

"Okay," he assents, holding out his hand for calm. "I'm not saying you don't."

I suddenly feel irrationally angry as I turn away from him and his unwelcome sympathy. If he doesn't understand then I don't really want him to even try to. And yet, I'm aware that at the same time I'm being unfair. That he's motivated by the best of intentions and that I can't expect him to just comply with how I want to live my life.

"If you have a problem with her being here, I understand. We just need a bit of time, but I'm sure we can find somewhere else. Get out of your hair."

"Look, Alex, that is not what I'm saying," his voice is approaching the certainty that I'm used to hearing in it. "It's not her being here that I have a problem with. I just want to make sure you're okay."

I assure him that I am, but he seems reluctant to accept this.

"You explained to me why you broke up. You explained to me what you wanted to achieve in coming to New York… And you seem to be doing it. You're doing really well, aren't you? The job, yes? They like you, you're boss certainly thinks well of you…"

I have to bite my lip slightly to keep from an obvious reaction. I might have mentioned June once or twice (or maybe a bit more) to him, but he was unaware as to quite the extent of our relationship, working and otherwise.

"It's just that," he continues on, oblivious, "I don't want to see you taking a big step backwards. Either of you. She is studying at a really great university herself. Does she really want to give that up? Is she even aware of what she's doing?"

I can't answer this. It will end in an argument, I know it. At any rate, I'm hoping that once he's said his piece he'll just leave it be. I'll just try not to listen too much. Try not to think about what he's asking.

"Alex, if the two of you are really in love and want to be together than I can understand that. Honestly. Look," he let's out a sigh as if finally realizing he's talking to a brick wall, "What I'm trying to say, and obviously saying it very badly is this: You're going through the hardest time right now. And I'm glad she's there for you. But even if it doesn't seem like it, one day, it will get better. And maybe when it does you'll think differently about some of the decisions you made. But unfortunately, when it comes down to things like careers and university, some of those decisions aren't so easily reversed. So just think about it, okay? I'm just thinking of you." He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, smiling.

I try with all my might to shut out what he's been talking about, and what he's asking me to do. I was so excited about my future 24 hours ago, less even, ten hours, two hours. I was so certain as well.

"I do love her," I affirm, looking him in the eye so there can be no mistake. "And this is what I want. What we both want. And I'm sure."

I speak the words so there can be no other possibility. Because possibilities seem too terrifying right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Ugh! What time is it?" she groans sleepily as I search about for my jacket. Evidently Paige had done some rearranging in our room and now I can't find anything.

"It's early, baby, go back to sleep," I say distractedly, having located the jacket and my keys.

The dreaded Monday morning has rolled around, and after a Sunday of taking in some of the city's more touristy hotspots, I'm catapulted back into reality with a thump.

Not that I generally hate going to work or anything. Usually getting up is not a problem for me, knowing that I'm going to see, well…her, I guess. Plus my job is pretty good, my colleagues generally nice.

But this morning it would be different. Those that knew of my absence, that knew the reason for my absence, would be looking at me. I don't know if I'm prepared for that. And as for June…I definitely haven't prepared for her. For telling her that whatever was going on between us would be no more. That I have got back together with my ex-girlfriend who is now living with me. That I hope she isn't too upset and still thinks highly enough of me to give me a good appraisal at the end of my internship and recommend me for any upcoming positions in the department. Yeah…maybe not thinking about it is the best way forward.

"My God, look at you," she remarks as she raises herself up in the bed. "You're all, workified, professional looking."

"Yeah," I say absently as I pack up my bag, "It comes with the job."

"Hey, how do I get to Baruch College? Do you know? I want to go have a look at their campus today."

I look at her, slightly taken aback at just how organized she is being within a couple days of getting here. I don't know why I'm surprised though. After all, I had bared witness to her endless prospectus trawling while we were at Degrassi.

"Baruch," I say, trying to picture it in my head. I had definitely heard the name and knew that it was in the area.

"It's near Lexington Avenue. We're near there aren't we? I think it's 25th street?"

"Right," I mumble. "You wanna go downtown. The subway is 6 blocks that way. Paige? That way," I'm pointing now to get her attention. The last thing I want is getting her lost in New York. "Anyway, I think it's the 6 train, but check when you get there. Okay?"

I grab my bag and get ready to go, she holds out her arm as I do and I go to kiss her goodbye.

"Bye," I say leaning down. A brief peck and I'm backing away to the door.

"Aah, my little girl all grown up," she says with a smile, looking up at me.

Instantly a cold wave of nausea hits me. It was an off-the-cuff joke; I don't think Paige even considered its implications. But I'm thinking of her as she says it. Of her, who will never see me like this, who will never know what I am or what I could be. The realization leaves me feeling disarmed and shaken.

"You look so hot," Paige reaffirms, which focuses my attention again.

"I am hot," I wink back at her, regaining some composure as I head out the door.

"You have a nice day now!" she calls after me and I can hear the amusement in her voice. It's enough to keep me smiling all the way to Lexington before I board my train.

I'm heading downtown, to west 57th street, just a short walk to Broadway and my big imposing skyscraper of a workplace. All about me is the usual throng of commuters, we're all in a hurry, and we all take consolation in our anonymity. If only it could last. For a fleeting second I entertain the idea of just carrying on past my building, just walking off and not looking back, going wherever my feet may carry me. It's a comforting reckless thought and by allowing myself to believe its plausibility I summon the courage to actually face my work.

Raymond, the guard at the desk, greets me as I walk in to the imposing lobby. He doesn't know my name, but he always smiles. I ride the elevator with nine or ten unknowns until my stop on the seventeenth floor.

It takes a final internal deep breath before I can swipe my card that let's me in to the particular area I work. But the familiarity of the desks all lined up with people settling in and early morning chatter soothes some of my anxiety. I get a "Good morning Alex," from Andrew, one of the sub-editors in non-fiction and a few smiles here and there from the secretaries. These people are nice. Not condescending. And besides, everyone's too busy here to really worry about me, I realize with relief.

I take a seat at my desk in the little cubicle I share with Rowena, Tracy and Adam. Evidently Adam is on vacation and I don't know where Rowena is, but Tracy eyeballs me suspiciously.

"So you decided to come back then?" she inquires, with maybe just a trace of an edge in her voice. Okay, scrap what I said about everyone being nice. She's one bitch I can tolerate, but have never ventured to like.

"Looks like it," I reply as my heart sinks at the paperwork that has been left to crowd my in-tray. This is going to be one pain-in-the-ass day.

Rowena rocks up with a cup of coffee and flashes me a smile. "Hey Alex, we were told you'd be in today. It's good to see you."

I thank her and she pauses before adding, "I'm sorry about your mother."

I still haven't got used to knowing how to respond to this. I mean, I've already just thanked her, should I say it again? It seems faintly absurd that I lose my one and only parent and suddenly have to turn into a manic ball of gratitude whenever people acknowledge this.

"Yeah," I state softly, offering a tight smile.

Tracy, who sits at one of the desks opposite mine leans forward and looks about conspicuously before asking, "How did she die?"

That nosy bitch, as if she actually cares. I notice Rowena shooting her a look, but looking back at me with curiosity.

"She had a liver disease," I reply looking directly back at Tracy, forcing her to lower her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she almost chokes on the words.

"If there's anything we can do…" Rowena trails off. God, these people know how to say all the right things. Shame it doesn't actually mean anything.

I pick up the stack of papers on my desk. "Got a shredder?" I ask with a rueful smile.

They tell me about this big marketing push that happened while I was away and all the reports that have to be logged as a result of it.

"It's very very tedious," Rowena assures me.

"It's boring as hell!" Tracy moans helpfully.

They spend some time going over with me what it is that needs to be done. At some point Rowena mentions, "And June wants the hard copies when you're done."

The mention of her name is enough to let me casually ask, "Is she in this morning? I haven't seen her."

Tracy mutters something about her having meetings all day and being in early. Right, well that solves that little confrontation problem for today. And yet I feel unexpectedly disappointed. Maybe it's just delaying the inevitable and I'd rather just get it over with. Maybe. But when I check my email I find her name crowding my inbox. A small thrill ripples down my spine at each one, yet there is more than a trickle of displeasure when they all appear to be work related. Just more accounts to go through, more data-entry, more crap.

Not that we were in any way conspicuous with email. These things were all stored on some giant back-up thingiemejig and no one could risk getting caught out. Any emails she ever sent me that had anything personal in them would be so discrete as to be totally ambiguous to anyone else. Probably the most conspicuous she had ever gotten was when I had replied to a very long and detailed list of tasks I had to do, complaining in a totally insolent, long-winded and tongue in cheek manner that it was all too menial and boring as to be beneath me.

She had replied: Just do it! – x

And strangely enough that had been enough to make me do it without even another negative thought.

The morning passes in relative calm. We chat absently with one another. A few people I know by name stop by my desk and offer the usual commiserations, good to have you back crap with relative awkwardness. The mail guy comes by and flirts with me a bit, as he usually does. I guess I'm not really out at work. Rowena has made some allusions as to her suspicions a couple times, trying to smoke me into it, name dropping a gay-bar or celebrity to see how I'll react. I usually just go with it, not denying anything or lying. But no one's ever come right out and asked if I was gay so I don't really see any point in declaring myself one way or another.

She does always look amused at Tony's attempts at chatting me up. But then we all do. He's such an obvious player. I suspect he probably has at least one of us on every floor.

Of course, all this makes it impossible to talk about Paige. Which is a shame. Rowena mentions her husband constantly and casually; Tracy always has some relationship crisis or another. I, on the other-hand must appear to have the most boring and non-existent lovelife ever. If they only knew, I think to myself.

The afternoon begins in much the same way as the morning. About halfway through I get up, to stretch my legs more than anything. I walk to the water cooler out in the hall and that is when I catch sight of her, coming out of one of the conference rooms with a bunch of suits. At first she doesn't see me as she's facing the other way, but as the suits walk off she turns around and catches my eye.

"Alex," she says in her semi-husky assertive tone that always gets me going. Well that and her long legs, and short skirts and – gaaa! Must not think like this!

She strides purposefully towards me as I straighten up, paper cup in hand, heart racing a mile a minute.

"Hello stranger," she says, her voice low and her smile warm. "How are you?"

"I'm fine…thanks."

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you this morning," she's glancing sideways as she talks to me, always looking out for any passing colleagues, giving them the nod or changing her tone accordingly, effusing professionalism at all times. "I've been a bit swamped lately. But we must catch up later. My office, 5.30, okay?" she takes a step back, already drifting back to her domain of authority.

"Alright," I respond dumbly, having no real alternative.

I spend the rest of the afternoon resolutely trying not to clock-watch and resoundingly failing. I try and focus on Paige for a while and that calms me down a bit. I can imagine her walking right into Baruch College and selling herself to whoever'll listen. Not like the time we had the college fair at Degrassi and I went and got her stoned, almost sabotaged her future completely. But those thoughts just make me feel angry and depressed so I shove them aside.

At last 5.30 rolls around and I make my way to June's office. It's really just a walled enclosure with blinded windows within our open-plan office. It's also empty. I hover around for a while before some dude tells me she was finishing up in the boardroom. I don't want to hang around for her and be late home, that would not be a good start on my domestic front. So I swing by the room I saw her coming out of that morning.

She's there alone, packing up some papers. "Sorry Alex," she says unperturbed at my sudden presence, "We overran. But as you're here why don't you have a seat."

Okay, so we're in manager and employee mode. I'm not sure if this makes things easier or not. I take a seat at the corner of the big imposing table, while she finishes putting away her stuff. She turns her chair sideways so she can face me more easily, more intimately, crossing those mile long legs as she does.

"How has your first day back been? Not too stressful I hope," her tone is friendly, but with more than a hint of formality about it.

"No more than usual," I reply.

"Alex," a tiny pause, "As you know, you're appraisal is due at the end of the month. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on what you might want to pursue next." She looks straight into my eyes with her icy blue ones as she says this. Oh dear God, stop these evil thoughts in my head.

"Well," I begin shakily, before clearing my throat to compose myself, "I have enjoyed working here, and feel that I have learnt a lot. A – a lot that I feel I'd like to give back, to-to the company," Jesus Christ everything we're saying sounds innuendo-laden.

But if she notices this she doesn't let on. "Well you've definitely shown you're capable," she says with an impressive display of seriousness. "Alex, there will be a number of positions becoming available in the next month. In particular in our sales division, supporting two of our imprint sales directors. It's a very good opportunity, good career progression. I'd like to put you forward." She looks impressed with herself as she concludes her proposal.

I shift about slightly in my seat. Do I tell her now? Hell yes, get me the job, but by the way my ass is now off limits. She stands up and takes a few steps over to where I'm sitting, folds her arms and leans back against the table.

"What's the matter? Do you want some time to think it over?"

I stare at the ground, unable to meet her gaze. The thought does occur to me, of course, that she's offering me this for purely ulterior motives. And I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean, a job's a job, I need one badly and this could be perfect. But even so…and I still haven't told her about Paige. But then, she hasn't yet implied anything, so…

"Y'know Alex," she begins, I can feel her eyes staring at me intently, "I didn't tell you this before, but… I lost my mother too. I was a little older than you admittedly…twenty-four I must have been, but… nothing prepares you for it, I know. Regardless of how well you might or might not have gotten on with each other at the time, you never expect that they'll just be taken away like that."

"I don't want to talk about my mother," I suddenly snap at her coldly.

It's the first time I've ever raised my voice to her, and for a second I'm absolutely terrified as to how she'll react.

"Okay," she relents softly as she backs away and picks up her briefcase. "But you think about what I've said. It's a good offer."

Clearly our meeting is at an end. I stand up as she makes to leave and she hovers before opening the door. Now is the time to tell her, my conscience shrieks at me. Tell her! Tell her!

"My schedule is a bitch this week," she confides, leaning towards me. "But we should try and fit in a lunch somewhere." And then, she's trailing a finger down the side of my face and every nerve ending is standing to attention as her perfume tickles my senses and her touch does something more extreme. "I've missed you," she stares at me, into me, and then disappears out the door.

I can hear the clicking of her heels only faintly over the din of my sinking heart.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

I feel like I have to take a moment to compose myself before I turn the key in the lock of my apartment door. I don't know why that should be, why my home is suddenly not my sanctuary. Somehow the journey home went by in a surreal haze, my brain felt like it was swimming around in my head, rather than being anchored to it. And now I would have to talk and respond and generally behave like a normal human being.

As luck would have it, the apartment is empty when I open the door. There's a message on the machine from Jaime saying he's at Diana's that evening, but there was cold pizza in the fridge. This both surprises me and makes me smile. He and Diana had been friends that had tried going on a couple dates before I left for Canada. Evidently that had blossomed into something more. She was wicked cool as well. A real no nonsense Mexican girl with a mouth to match Jaime's. They'd be good for each other, I thought.

I fling my jacket down on the couch and go to get a glass of water. New York summers are a bitch, the humidity is suffocating and the overly air-conditioned offices are worse. I change my mind and reach for one of Jaime's beers instead. He wouldn't mind, I reason. Well, he wouldn't miss it at any rate.

Paige decides to choose that moment to come swooping in, all rustling bags and flicked out hair. I like it when she does that with her hair, even if the application seems to take her the best part of a morning.

"Hey hun!" she greets me, her face beaming.

"Hey baby," I reply, sucking on my beer, crumpling into the folds of the couch.

She comes over and sits next to me, pulling the beer from my lips and replacing it with her own.

"Why are you drinking now?" she says with a frown after pulling away.

"I dunno, I just felt like it," I reply honestly.

"How was your first day back?" she asks.

"Yeah, okay." I don't want to go into any detail. But luckily she is easily distracted. "How was yours?"

"Well," she begins with a dramatic pause, "I think, perhaps, it topped okay. I went to check out the Baruch campus, and oh my God, was I impressed."

I continue to sip my beer and listen as she waxes lyrical about faculties and courses and alumini and various other buzz words that I had a similar experience in enduring the year before, when Paige was all abut Banting.

"So you liked it then?" I conclude for her when she eventually stops to draw breath.

"I did," she affirms, getting up and taking her shopping off the table. "And I have an interview with the admissions office next week. I spoke to a very clued up woman, really nice, in their Department of Managemen,t and she reckons I could transfer onto their entrepreneurship and small business management program."

I'm taken aback by just how quickly things are moving for Paige. For us. I guess I'm not that good at hiding my surprise either. "What? Just like that they'll have you?"

Paige looks slightly wounded at my lack of tact. It briefly seems to take the wind out of her sails. "Not, just like that," she responds in an offended tone. "I still have to go for an interview, and apply properly. And get my course tutor to write a letter of referral. But none of that should be a problem."

She moves the bags onto the floor and turns her attention back to me. "Y'know, I was at Canada's top university, hun. Some people consider that quite an achievement."

I can hear her voice tainted with disappointment and it's enough to re-ignite the flicker of guilt from earlier that evening, in a boardroom on 1745 Broadway.

I rest my beer on the floor. "I'm sorry baby, your right, that's great news. Come here."

And she comes to me then, sitting on my knee and putting her arms around my neck and we make out for a bit to avoid any further tension.

"Did your day not go so well?" she asks, scraping my hair back off my face.

"I'm just tired," I tell her, realizing the truth in my words as I speak them.

"Where's Jaime tonight? I got dinner in." She nods, indicating the bags on the floor.

"Paige," I can't help but smile at this. "God, that was only a joke about you cooking for us. It's not a big deal, no one expects you to."

"I know," she says, resting her head on my shoulder, "I just feel like I should be doing something to contribute, and I honestly don't mind."

Her thoughtfulness is something that was always well hidden to those that only knew Paige as the head cheerleader with the snappy putdowns. But I knew how giving she could be, and how she wasn't always as self-assured as she seemed. It was something we had in common. But still, her whole adaptability to this New York venture has taken me by surprise. I seem to be the one struggling with it and nothing's really changed for me.

Well, nothing…everything.

"How long can you hold out for dinner?" she says, sliding off my lap and making me feel instantly cold.

I half-sigh, half yawn which prompts her to laugh.

"You think you're gonna be able to stay awake?" She's unpacking her bags now and I notice her take the leftover pizza from the fridge and throw it away. There goes my breakfast, I think.

"So, what did your co-workers have to say about your return?" she asks this with her back to me, busying herself with the meal. But my mind instantly thinks of…her.

"_I've missed you."_

"Alex?"

"Huh?"

Paige is standing before me now with an unreadable expression on her face. It makes me feel beyond uncomfortable, knowing how perceptive she can be. She had known about my affair with June before I had even told her. When we were still at Degrassi she had known that I was in love with her before I ever said the words. Maybe she couldn't read my mind, but there was something about my emotions that she always seemed to pick up on, often before I did. It made me squirm internally. I hadn't _done_ anything this afternoon. I wasn't going to do anything with her again either. So there was no reason to be feeling guilty…was there?

"You know," I say, taking her hand, "I do think I need an early night."

That night I make love to her urgently. Whatever was building up inside of me was insatiable and all consuming and I felt powerless to stop it.

Eventually she gets hold of my shoulder hard enough to direct my attention.

"Hey, Alex. Alex!"

My breathing is ragged and I can almost hear my heart hammering in my ears.

"What's gotten into you?" she asks, breathless herself, voice tinged with concern.

"Huh? Nothing," I lean back down and start kissing her neck put she pushes me off her again.

She stares up at me, her eyes glinting in the darkness, questioning.

"I love you so much…" is all I can muster.

"Alex," her voice is soft, her tone forgiving. She trails her finger down the side of my face and the gesture sends a visible shiver down my body.

"Alex, you're shaking," she whispers to me, before pulling me down into her embrace.

She untangles the sheet with one hand and pulls it around us. I try not to think of anything as she strokes my hair, rubs my back rhythmically, kisses my forehead. I try so hard not to think at all, to just drift off, away from everything…

When I wake up, it's several hours later. Dawn is creeping through the blinds. Paige is asleep on her side, snoring ever so slightly. I quietly make my way into the kitchen; fill a glass over the sink. Then I go to the bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror for a good ten minutes. It stares back, unblinking, betraying nothing. Finally, I lift up the toilet seat and bend my head over, a small trickle of bile drips into the bowl.

oooOOOooo

Two days later June comes to find me at work.

"I can spare an hour for lunch. Meet me 12.30, that little bistro on 56th street, okay?"

It's not really a question. I am to be there.

We meet up outside and she does the usual once over roaming eye to check that there's no one she knows inside. We sit down and order.

"So," she says at last, when the waiter's gone and she's got a white wine spritza in her hand, "Have you thought anymore about my offer?"

I know what I have to do, but there is more than a little trepidation as I begin. "Yeah, I have."

"And?" she's smiling her confidant, winning smile. The no-one-turns-me-down smile.

"Why are you offering me this job June? I mean, I don't have a degree, I don't have amazing high school grades. Why?"

She seems completely unruffled by my chosen tact, "Because Alex, what you do have cannot be gained via any college education."

Her eyes seem to be sparkling with amusement as she says this. I'm unsure as to whether she's making fun of me or coming on to me.

"And was it that?"

"Unlimited potential," she raises her glass and sips before setting it down and adding, "and a good deal of charm."

I snort at this.

"What's wrong?" she asks, her face suddenly becoming more serious.

"I don't want to get a job because I have…'charm'."

"Alex," she leans forward and lowers her voice as she addresses me, "Call it charm, call it good interpersonal skills, whatever. It goes a long way in this business. Don't be so naïve."

"Yeah well, I call it fucking my boss. And I think your husband would call it infidelity."

For a moment she looks torn between slapping me in the face and bursting into tears. It's a bizarre conflict of emotions that plays out visibly on her normally totally controlled composure.

"What is this about Alex? I suggest you apply for a position which you have demonstrated you have the ability to do and now you want to throw this at me?"

"I want to get a job based on my ability to _do_ the job and nothing else."

"Obviously. And that was why I proposed it. But if this is how you choose to react, going off the handle like this…" her tone is dangerously sharp now, without it having increased in volume any. She looks directly at me, her stare deadly and unflinching. It makes me feel slightly shamed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't word that well. I just…needed to be sure. You see, a lot of things have changed for me…"

The tight lines around her mouth begin to fade as I say this, but her blue eyes still retain their icy gloss. "Your mother," she states.

"Yeah…and…other things…" I drift off.

"That girl from your high school. When I called you in Toronto and she was there. You fucked her didn't you?"

She launches the accusation like an interrogation, emotionless, seeking only the facts. It's enough to disarm me completely. I suddenly feel embarrassed and ashamed for ever trying to hide the truth from her. From this, my own secret, my own deception. Why would she care? What right would she have to care? Pride? Vanity?

"Yeah. Yeah I did." I can't return her gaze, but after a brief pause I hear her give a faint laugh, which causes me to look-up.

"Alex, it's not that tragic. I was screwing you, you screw someone else. It's the way of the world. It's human nature. So don't look so morose."

"It's just, the job. Should I still apply?"

"Of course," she smiles and takes a large gulp from her glass. "Besides, all good things must come to an end."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

I hardly saw or spoke to June in the weeks that followed, which is remarkable considering just how frequently we used to inadvertently bump into each other. But either fate was lending me a helping hand or she was consciously avoiding me.

Naturally, being my supervisor she had to sit in at my appraisal. But Mr. Abrams, the overall manager of the department was there too, and for once I was grateful for his presence. She kept a respectful silence through much of it, but when it came time to offer her evaluation she was both understated and effusive in her praise. I avoided meeting her gaze directly as she spoke of me, to me even. We spoke to each other without ever engaging the other. We might as well have been talking underwater. But Abrams looked pleased, as pleased as I'd ever seen him look, as his mouth distorted itself into something approaching a smile. Just once did I catch her eye. She glanced up suddenly as we were all rising from the table and seemed caught off-guard, almost vulnerable as we exchanged looks. She appeared on the verge of saying something but then turned her head. That was it.

Things were flowingly along at home. Paige had found herself a job waiting tables at some high-class Pizzeria and seemed to get on with the others who worked there, most of whom seemed to be college kids. She was eagerly waiting to hear back from Baruch, always being the first one to collect the mail. I was thankful that she had found herself a job. It certainly didn't make a huge difference to our finances, not with her spending habits, but it seemed to offer her a distraction for some of the time, kept her from pressing me about my varying moods.

I don't know when exactly it had begun, but lately I had started to feel like something approaching a bit part in my own life. Decisions were made, boxes were ticked, all that crap that keeps you going day in and day out. But somewhere along the way….my intent or my purpose…I don't know what it was…but it had got lost somehow. I was just drifting around, going through the motions, whatever. I could feel it creeping up on me, this abandonment, this detachment of emotion. Jaime has taken me aside a couple of times, had suggested I go to bereavement counseling. I was pretty emphatic in my latest refusal so he let it drop.

Paige would occasionally get an earnest look on her face and stroke my hair and try and coax me into unburdening my heart. But even that was becoming wearisome. I had told her everything I wanted her to know on that score. I didn't see the point in dredging up every remote memory or emotion just so I could suffer the humiliation of crying about it in front of someone. Besides, I knew they'd all gotten it wrong. The conscious effort to care less afforded its own kind of liberty. It meant I didn't have to think of the past, I didn't have to care about the future and I didn't have to inflict upon myself that masochistic pain that everyone was so determined I should feel.

So here I was, at my desk, reading my official letter of confirmation that I had got the Sales Assistant job. Something close to satisfaction flickers across my heart. Quickly followed by something else, another one of those ambiguous emotions I am busy suppressing. Oh well.

Rowena and Adam and a few others, even Tracy, decide to take me out to celebrate. "Hey, I'm only nineteen, remember, this will be more fun for you than me."

But Adam knows a place apparently; it turns out to be a dingy hole of a bar where they don't examine I.Ds too closely and we all set about ordering cocktails that they don't offer and going to great lengths to explain how to mix them. It's a fun night and I do my best to ignore the voice that's telling me to phone Paige. "Just one more," I keep telling them, "then I'm off home."

One turns into three shots, then four, but at last my resolution outweighs everyone else's drunkenness. "Seriously guys, I've really gotta go," I put on my jacket to emphasize my intent this time.

"Why you gotta go Alex? Hey?" This from Rowena. "You got something better waiting for you at home?"

"Might do," I answer cryptically, the alcohol giving me more than a certain degree of confidence.

They make oohing noises and raised eyebrow gestures at each other, but I don't let them draw me on it any further.

I spend my remaining cash on a cab home and stagger slightly up the stairs. I can hardly be bothered to compose myself before I enter the apartment.

Jaime, Diana and Paige are all sitting around the table, eating chips and playing poker. For some unreasonable notion, I'm faintly disappointed that my apparent lateness seems to have gone unchecked.

"Hey, poker buddy," Jaime offers in greeting, not taking his eyes off his cards, "Pull up a chair, why don't cha?"

I decline and go into the kitchen in search of something solid to put into my stomach.

"You're home late," Paige calls out.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," I reply distractedly, my head in the cupboard. "I, uh, I got offered that job. So they took me out celebrating. Couldn't get away." This was an approximation of the truth. I didn't try all that hard, admittedly, but sure there was a token effort. That's got to count for something.

"Hey, you got the job? That's fantastic," beams Jaime, turning in his chair, "Hey Alex, come here."

I sidle back to the table, having only unearthed a glass of milk, which will have to do.

Jaime gives me his big encompassing bear hug, slapping my back enthusiastically and Diana looks on smilingly, offering "Congratulations girl."

I glance up at Paige whose mouth quivers in indecision, only her eyes expressing her anger. "Well done," she says quietly. Her face is enough to make me feel bad at my mistake, but my head isn't quite on the right mental plain to take her on tonight.

Jaime tries to get me to play poker again, but I turn it down, opting for a long shower. I tap Paige's head on my way past, but she just stiffens and doesn't look at me. Okay, she's going to be like that. I stay in the shower much longer than I need to, not wanting to face her, or them. The water pummels my body furiously and it's enough to revive my mind somewhat while emptying it of any unease. It's tempting not to get out at all. But then, I don't want my new paycheck to go entirely on hot water.

By the time I finish it's late and the cards have been put away. Paige is sitting on the bed waiting for me. I had hoped she might have just gone to sleep, but no such luck.

"You could have at least called," she begins, her voice sounding more hurt than angry.

"I'm sorry. My phone was outta juice." Okay, that one is a blatant lie.

She rolls her eyes and heaves out a sigh. There was a time when I would have been distressed to see her like this, unhappy because of me. But right now I don't even want to deal with it, it's just irritating.

"Really?" she says at last, turning back to face me.

"Yes," I respond forcefully, surprised at just how instinctually the lie comes out.

"I am pleased for you, y'know," she concedes, "It's just…I would have liked to go celebrating with you. Or at least be told."

She starts playing with my fingers absently as I slide down on my side of the bed. Her touch goes some way to soothing the tension. Some way, but…my mind's still floating around, looking for an available space to land.

"I know. We'll celebrate another time," I try and sound affectionate, I try and appear humble. She's kissing my knuckles and giving me her seductive look.

"We could always start right now?"

I let out an involuntarily sigh and edge slightly away. "Baby, I'm too tired."

That seems to stop her in her tracks briefly. I don't think it's a line I've ever used on her, although she's played it now and then. Her surprise is easily registered.

Her expression turns to one of concern. "Alex, what's wrong?" Here we go.

I inadvertently scrape the hair out of my face and turn to look up at the ceiling. Away from her sympathetic eyes that burn right through me.

"Nothing…it's just, y'know, this new job. It's just a lot of responsibility. I mustn't screw it up."

"You won't," she states it simply, and her certainty actually goes some way to calming me down.

"Mm," I murmur, non-comitally, "I'm glad someone has faith in me."

"Hey," she grabs my arm and pulls me round onto my side, so I'm lying facing her. "We all have faith in you, okay?"

I think about that. The "we". Who does that apply to in my life? Paige? My cousin? June?… What do they really think I'm going to do with the rest of my life? I mean, if I don't even really know. Who am I, to be believed in? What is it that makes you back a person like that anyway? Support them, when all they do is let you down, or mess you around or…

"Are you thinking about her?" Paige's voice invades my internal concourse.

I'm not sure what to say, not sure whether I really deserve these hands that are brushing stray locks of hair from my face or tracing my profile.

"I just," I hesitate, weighing up how much of this is actually worth getting in to, but wanting, almost craving, for an outsider's justification. "I just feel like, maybe her faith in me was always misplaced, y'know? Like, no matter what she said, it was always about something else. But then, I dunno, it seems like maybe I was wrong. Maybe she did believe in me, in a way that was just easier to ignore…"

She nods, as if trying to understand and so I continue. "I thought, after I told her, that there wouldn't even be a job for me, but…she kept her word. I mean, it's all there for me on a plate now. I guess it's just a little hard to believe…"

She stops abruptly her ministrations. "I was talking about your mother."

"Oh."

She chews her bottom lip, resolutely not looking at me. I can feel my heart plummeting. This is a perfect example of why I was keeping my mouth shut these days.

"So it's her. It's that woman that's been on your mind all this time."

"No. Paige, no, not at all."

Despite the darkness I can see her eyes brimming with tears now. It sends my guilty conscience skyrocketing out of retirement.

I want to reach out and hold her and comfort her, but there seems to be an invisible barrier between us that I dare not cross.

"You don't understand," I try lamely.

"How can I understand, when you won't begin to talk to me about anything," she croaks back miserably.

She's turned away from me now, but with her head looking back over her shoulder. She's expecting something from me, anything. But I can't find the words. She turns her face away, stifling what could be a sob.

I try reaching out my hand to her back, but her spine bristles at the contact.

I turn over onto my other side and we remain like that for most of the night, our backs to each other, our bodies a chasm apart.

Awake, aware and alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Paige did a sterling job of talking to me as little as possible over the next few days. Which set the perfect mood for starting my new job. I went into work heavy-hearted and exhausted having continuously lain awake each night, the air fizzing not with heat so much as tension, the silence between us deafening.

She hardly looked at me when I addressed her, and when she did her expression was devastating. Wounded, victimized, with more than a touch of anger seeping through to the surface, flickering in her eyes. Look what you've done to me, they seemed to accuse me of. Yet for all her distress, my guilty conscience seemed appeased. If she could act like this when I hadn't actually done anything, when the nearest I had been to betraying her was through an intonation that had been thrown my way, then she deserved to suffer. Shit, I didn't mean that. I didn't want her feeling any of those things. Feeling alone, depressed, angry at nothing, at the walls that housed her, at the fucking hand that feeds her…I was beginning to appreciate that perhaps I was having some issues.

But I bore it all with weary resignation. There didn't really seem a whole lot of alternative. I could take Jaime's smothering advice. Go lie on a couch and revisit my childhood. Some bald headed dude with letters after his name would scribble as I ranted and conclude that wow, my life had been a bit shit. Big fucking surprise. Or maybe I could just confide in my girlfriend again. Oh wait, she still thinks I'm having an affair with my ex-boss and won't even come near me. Oh yeah, and maybe I could talk to June, she's all clever and learned and whatnot. Although she was never hugely into talking with me. Except for work, issuing me directives. Or sometimes during sex, which was pretty much…. issuing me directives.

And so I'm walking down the stairs one morning, having snuck out of the apartment as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb her. Something compels me to check our mail, Paige usually does it, but I just feel curious this morning. And there's an envelope stamped Baruch College. It's a big brown envelope. I know what this means. My first instant emotion is one of happiness. She's done it, she's gotten in. I briefly picture her face as she opens it. But then the vision turns anxious. What if everything's changed beyond recognition now? What if she doesn't want to study here anymore? What if she's finally gone and figured me out?

I linger in the hall, in two minds as to what to do. But I'm tired of this stupid atmosphere and I've got some time to spare so I quickly return to the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time.

She's still asleep as I enter our room, looking beautifully distraught, hair spilling over the pillow, her lips slightly parted. I lean down over my side of the bed and briefly touch her shoulder. It's the most intimate contact we've shared all week.

"Hey, Paige," I say softly as she stirs. "Look what I found." I hold up the envelope with Baruch blazoned across it so there can be no mistake.

She hauls herself upright, brushing her hair out of her face and trying to focus on what's in front of her with a degree of puzzlement. She takes the envelope from me, registers the stamp on it and then tears it open.

She nods at its contents, smiling briefly, I can tell she's pleased, but she's not doing her usual carnival of celebration. "They've accepted me. Starting this fall."

I smile at this, inwardly proud for her and for me. That's my girlfriend, I can't help but think. They all want her, that's how brilliant she is. "That's so great," I try and sound as enthusiastic as reasonably possible.

"Is it?" she looks up at me, her tone rueful, yet with a hint of challenge.

"Of course. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I thought it was," she murmurs. Uh oh. "What do you want?"

An audible sigh escapes my lips, exasperation caused not so much by her words but this situation we've gotten ourselves into.

"I want you to be happy." I offer, a little uncertain as to if this is the answer she's looking for. I crawl over to her and take her hand, it feels so warm from being tucked under her chin while she slept. "I want _us_ to be happy," I elaborate.

She looks at me with more compassion. She rubs her thumb over my knuckles. "I want that too."

It's more of a ceasefire to proceedings then a total reversal of fortunes. But it's enough for us to share a brief, awkward kiss. She's hesitant to indulge me and I feel like it's more of a token effort. But still, we are making the effort. "I'm gonna be late, I better go," I say, rising from the bed. I get as far as the door before the idea hits me.

"Let's go out tonight, to celebrate," I blurt out, impulsively. Because obviously one dinner will solve everything.

In fairness, Paige looks both surprised and hesitant at this suggestion. "Really?" her forehead crinkles up with worry lines.

"Yeah, definitely. Anywhere you wanna go. You're not working tonight are you?"

"Well, no, but – a bunch of us were going to Greenwich Village, this band's playing at the Bitter End."

"Oh. You never said."

"Yeah, well…" she trials off, taking a sudden interest in inspecting her feet.

"Well, who's the band? Maybe I could, y'know, tag along?"

"Glorious Downfall."

"What?" I laugh at this and she smiles. "Never heard of them."

"No, but Dom's seen them play and he says they're really good. And I want to check out that club, isn't it famous or something?"

"Dom?" I inquire, catching a name she's never mentioned before.

"Yeah Dom. Dominic from work. You've heard me talk about him. Like, ten feet tall, covered in tattoos, muscely as hell…"

"I don't think so…"

"Well, anyways…" She shrugs, gives me a whatever look, I can come if I want.

oooOOOooo

The club is packed that night. Whoever these pseudo new folk, Americana , electro-acoustic, I'm-crying-into-my-cornflakes sons of bitches are, they've got everyone fooled. Everyone, but me. They are truly shit.

We're pretty much crowded in, shoulder-to-shoulder. Paige is busy chatting to her new friends, particularly that quarterback one, Dom. I thought maybe he'd be a metalhead or something, but he looks more like a jock. He keeps bending down while she whispers stuff into his ear. Yeah, it's crowded and loud as hell, and he's tall and everything… I'm just being paranoid. But when I glance over for the fiftieth time I notice he's managed to snake his arm around her waist. My head is already throbbing from all the bodies packing in around me, but I suddenly discover a few new blood vessels up there.

I clamber my way over to them, squeezing passed every Conversed kid on the planet who seem to be out tonight.

"Hey!" he gives a big stupid grin when I'm finally practically on top of them. "I was just congratulating your girl here, welcoming her to the dark side."

"What?" I'm shouting because of the indie crap that's now cranking out of the speakers. I have no idea what this dumbass is talking about.

"On getting acceptance. Transferring to Baruch. Can't wait to take you on the real campus tour." He's looking down at her with this blatantly slimey grin.

"You go there too?" My heart plummets. I'm torn between anger at the possibility that he's actually trying to flirt with my girlfriend in front of me and despair that she might be encouraging him.

I have to endure this for a few more seconds before a second realization hits me. It starts bubbling away in my stomach, giving me just enough time to run. Run, fall, crawl over sweaty bodies that litter my retreat. I skip the toilets and go for a fire exit, and then I'm kneeling down on refreshingly cold concrete, throwing up behind a dumpster.

oooOOOooo

She tries to get me to stay at home the next day. But I'm not sick and so there doesn't seem to be any point.

"Alex, why don't you just slow down. Take the day off, come on."

But I'm adamant about going in. I've only just started my new job, I reason, I can't just be pulling a sickie because I overheated at some club.

She lets me go reluctantly, and the fact that she is showing a degree of interest in my welfare is touching. Better than showing an interest in that keg-swilling fratboy.

I ride the subway in a state of morose reflection. There are bodies packed in, all looking as disinterested and grey as possible. Whatever happened to heartfelt communication, I think bitterly. Angry at them all for their combined introvertedness. Angry at myself for being one of them. Isn't that what life's about? Isn't that what most of our jobs are about? Supposedly we are communicating with each other more than ever before. Blame the internet, blame the satellites, whatever. What does communication even mean really? I mean, somebody makes a gesture towards someone with reference or intent. Big fucking deal. We're still just as wrapped up in ourselves as always. We just want more people to know about it.

Some people never know their parents. Some people never get to talk to them, maybe they're always out working, maybe their out hustling, maybe, I don't know, they're disabled in some way and can't have regular conversations.

But she always talked to me. It's just a shame, most of the time her mind was somewhere else, usually swimming round the bottom of a beer can or something. But she liked to try and appear as intelligible as possible, even when she was slurring her words or repeating herself. And sometimes it was embarrassing. And sometimes I burned internally with anger, with the unfairness of it all, that my own mother couldn't keep it together for her own kid's first school play or PTA meeting or thirteenth birthday. But the anger never lasted long. Because she needed me. When she couldn't coordinate her movements, get herself into bed. Or when one of those useless bastards had got a rage on and decided to slap her about.

It always reaffirmed her position in my life. She'd cry sometimes, if I was icing her lip after another drunken fight with Chad, "Lexi, you're so good to me. Look at you, my beautiful daughter." She'd hold her hand to my cheek, a miserable smile forming on her burnt-out face, her eyes dancing around where she supposed my own to be. And she'd continue with her drunken rambling because I know she felt ashamed in that instance, for what she'd reduced herself to, for what she'd reduced me to. But I never felt angry with her in those moments. She was too helpless, beyond my anger, past pity, yoking the unconditional love that our shared genes had summoned.

"You're my baby girl. What would I do without you?"

But the last time I'd seen her hadn't been like that. I was leaving for New York. Maybe she didn't want me to go. Maybe, by that stage, things had broken down irreparably with Chad. But of course, she couldn't communicate any of that with me. So she just got rip-roaringly hammered, told me I was abandoning her and blew me a kiss before passing out. And all the shame, all the embarrassment, all the hurt flew with me 500 miles to New York. But I was never there for the reconciliation, the drunken mother, beseeching forgiveness, that always turned it around. I left her in a blaze of fury. And then she left me with nothing more.

I'm sleepwalking through my day now. My feet can only just about hold me upright. It doesn't look good to my new employers, they're shuffling their files around, tightening their shoulders, and eyeing me occasionally for signs of life.

"Alex," Robyn Turner appears at my desk, all bespeckled and important-looking. "I have a meeting at three. I need 20 copies of each of these reports." She dumps them on my desk before I have a chance to tell her that's not really my job anymore.

Whatever. It gets me away from people for a while. The copy room I use is at the far end of the floor, small, windowless and insular. Being in there, dissolving into my own brain stew right now, feels almost comforting.

I mindlessly feed report after report into the copier as it hums and flashes away. But a presence disturbs me from my isolation, I can almost feel her, smell her even, before I turn to see her standing framed in the doorway, clutching a huge lever-arch file to her chest.

"Hi…June," I greet her uncertainly. At that moment I feel like I could almost fall asleep standing up.

"Alex," she nods, not looking quite as composed as she usually does. "How's the new job going?"

"Yeah, it's good."

We stare at each other in silence for one beat, two…

"How are you Alex? You look a bit…tired."

I shrug my shoulders and look away, hearing the door close to the small room, and knowing on which side of it she'll be.

She's behind me now, close enough that I can feel her breath tickling the back of my neck. I don't turn around, but she extends her arms, reaching them around me and leaning against the copier.

"Your mother," I begin, "How did she die?"

"She had breast cancer."

"I'm sorry," I glance back at her over my shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because…isn't that what I'm supposed to say?" I have to turn around then, encircled by her. She shakes her head softly.

"Alex," she tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. Just like _she_ used to do, before wiping my face. Just like Paige used to do, before kissing me.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

The way she says it, offers it so softly, so reassuringly, I have to bite my lip to keep from cracking up.

But she let's me hold her, and hangs back on to me like I need her to. Without the urgency of those past encounters. Without the thrill or terror of someone catching us. Without expecting anymore in return. Without any other words being uttered.

The copier drones gently on for those few silent minutes. Where at last I establish some heartfelt communication.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Come on, give me a kiss," she instructs me, her face hovering above mine, her hair tickling my nose.

I acquiesce, our lips meeting solidly, fleetingly, before she backs away.

"Hmm, I hope I have everything," she mutters, sifting through the bag slung over her shoulder.

"Paige, just relax. It's only school. They don't shoot you for forgetting a pen. And you get to come home when it's done."

"I know, but…" she has now removed said bag and has dumped it on our bed, on my legs more precisely, for a proper inspection. "I like to be prepared, y'know…"

"Oh, I know," I reply in exasperation, giving up on snatching any more minutes of sleep. "Do you know where you're going?" I ask her as she finally packs her stuff back up.

"Yeah, Dom's meeting me at the subway so we can go in together."

Dom. Together. Words I don't want to hear my girlfriend using in the same sentence.

"Right."

She gives me a quick unreadable glance. I can't work out if it's one of reassurance or challenge or irritation. Whichever way, I'm sure she registers my displeasure.

"Okay, well, I am off to become a fully qualified business graduate thank you. So wish me luck."

"You don't need it," I instinctually respond. It's meant as a compliment. Because that's the sort of faith I have in her. She wants this so badly, to get qualified, to get this great career going. And when she wants something like that badly enough, well, there isn't a doubt in my mind she can accomplish it.

But she's looking a little put out at what I said. "Hmph," she offers.

I have to get up and put my arms around her to reassure her I did not mean it badly. And then she's looking up at me with her big lovely smile, and I have to kiss her again even though it feels forced.

And she disappears in a flurry of last minute checks and rechecks and shouted instructions for me to remember and the door slams shut behind her and I sink back to the bed and feel instantly alone.

Freeze frame this moment. Because this is how Paige and I live right now. After the bust-up, which really never lasted long, there was the make-up, which went on for about the same length. Now we are in the lull. It's not such a bad place to be, I reckon. As long as we follow The Rules things grind on, regular as clockwork.

The sun comes up and I wake up. I do not think about her. Or _her_. I can think about Paige, of course. And usually spend a few minutes thinking about her just before she wakes up. She always looks her most beautiful then. Serene, yet vulnerable. And it reminds me of when we were first together, and how I couldn't believe my luck that I had finally got with this most amazing girl. This girl from such a very different life, who had once not deigned to give me the time of day. But thinking back to that time gets a little dangerous as it invariably leads me to thinking about….her. So then I get up and get ready for work.

While at work I must _do_ work and try not to daydream. I must also try and avoid the seventeenth floor and being alone in very small windowless rooms.

Recreation time is spent doing things that involve directing our attention and concentration away from ourselves. We watch movies, we go shopping, we go to ill-conceived off-Broadway student productions. We paint the lounge, I try hanging some pictures, I catch my thumb with the hammer, she kisses it better. We go shopping.

We can talk about my work, but only in regards to the work I do. I can ask about her friends, but am not allowed to make sarcastic comments about them. I am not allowed to openly criticize the Meathead in any way either. We cannot and must not talk about her. Or_ her_.

And at night we must kiss and we can snuggle. Occasionally there's some brief fumbling. It's never very successful. We haven't had sex in a while. But we don't talk about this either.

And that is how we have been trundling along up until this point. And today it all threatens to be disrupted by Paige's first day at Baruch College. But I know that I have to put my anxiety on simmer for the time being, as my alarm clock reminds me.

Work starts off at a frantic pace as one of the directors has put in a surprise visit, sending all my managers spiraling into a frenzy. It's a good distraction, as we hastily throw together some figures and print-outs and bullshit publication graphs that make us look like we know what we're doing. Actually, it makes me feel kinda good. Like maybe I do know what I'm doing. Like, maybe I am actually capable of carrying off this whole job, office, NYC hotshot thing. Hmmm…

But, inevitably, I let my guard down, I let myself get carried away with this feeling, and neglect to stick to The Rules. I am flying along the seventeenth floor, having bludgeoned a favour off Rowena. My boss is waiting for all his presentation handouts for Mr. Bigshot. I have them. I'd done them.

I look at my watch. Shit two minutes 'till showtime. I'm almost running along the corridor. My hands clutching the precious cargo. Gotta get these to him. Gotta make it. Boardroom C. Boardroom C, seventeenth floor. Danger not even registering.

"Alex," and there she is, sauntering beside me. How the hell does she do that? I'm practically sprinting and she's all unflustered and the essence of composure keeping pace with me. I glance down to check she's not on a travellator.

"Can you spare a minute?" she asks sweetly.

"Not really," I reply, eyes forward, legs marching. Focus on your mission Alex.

"Well, you certainly look busy. Is this all because of Mark?" How totally unsurprising that she's on first name terms with him. "Honestly, the fuss that's made every time that man waltzes in here, I swear he does it just to see how many nervous breakdowns he can induce. You know, last time …"

I've tuned her out as I can see the impatient figure of my own MD waiting outside the boardroom. My pace quickens yet again. But then she does this.

"Well, I can see you have more pressing things to attend to right now Alex. I'll see you later." She squeezes my elbow as she says this and it feels like a static shock to my wooly brain.

My boss comes forward, "Are these for the presentation?" he asks, instantly taking them from me and flipping one open.

"Yes, the fiction bestsellers is done on two parts-"

He interrupts, "Too bad we didn't have any warning about this visit. We could have at least attempted to cover summer trade paperback. _Fucking Mark._"

"Well, we've included East Coast sales, June July," I point out, showing him the relevant pages. "We've got speculative figures for August," again I'm thumbing through my own work, showing him what he should already know.

"Right," he replies, "I see." He's abrupt and blatantly an asshole, but he also says, "Thank you Alex," before taking them off me and going into his meeting.

I audibly exhale, literally feeling the weight unburdening itself from my shoulders. The relief makes me light-headed.

"Very impressive," comes a voice behind me.

Shit! She's still here.

I pause before turning back to her. "Hardly," I offer, starting to walk back the way I had come.

"Don't be so modest, Alex. And know how to take a compliment." She's smiling her half-smile at me, the one that always leads to trouble.

And as we pass a restroom she's got hold of my elbow again, but this time more forcefully and she's ushering me in.

Dammit, The Rules! This is totally and utterly breaking them.

I'm backed up against the counter and she's facing me with a determined, expectant expression on her face.

"Well?" she arches her eyebrow.

And somehow, I'm not even sure how, I find my mouth on hers, exploring its inside, inhaling her scent, tracing her back, her earlobe, her neck.

I can feel my hand wandering up the inside of her shirt, and then she takes it and tries to guide it somewhere lower.

And it's all just a dream, because it doesn't make any sense, so it has to be, because I have a girlfriend who I love and would never do this to….

"Shit! No, nononononono," I've pulled away and spun around and am busy berating myself out loud, wringing my hands that were milliseconds ago betraying me.

I can see her reflection in the bathroom mirror, looking startled, bemused. She does up her jacket, resigned to the premature end to this little skirmish.

She approaches and tries to put her hand on my shoulder.

"Alex," she begins.

"I can't. I can't do this. I can't do this to her."

"To who?"

"To my girlfriend! To Paige!" I blurt out desperately.

She pauses and something like a shadow crosses her face. "Paige? The girl from your high school. You're with her again?"

"What? Yes! I told you! She's here, with me, in New York. I mean, she was, she'll probably just leave now, when she finds out-"

"No, you didn't tell me. Alex," she steps forward and it's enough to shut me up. I realize that possibly I had omitted some vital information. "You told me you fucked her when you went back there. You never said she was here, living with you." Her voice sounds stung, her face becomes rigid. I've never heard her sound quite like that.

I swallow hard, still reeling, still tingling from what has just happened. "Does it make any difference?" I say eventually, returning her steely gaze.

We stare at each other briefly, before her muscles seem to relax again. She turns to leave, then leans in close, brushes my cheek with her fingertip. "Poor baby, you're really fucked up, aren't you?" She whispers, forcing me to clench my jaw and fix my eyes resolutely at the ground.

She wears a ghost of a smile as she backs away out the door.

I can feel the blood rushing to my face, I can feel every nerve ending within me aflame, all over my body, piercing my skin like a million little fireworks. I go into one of the stalls as my stomach starts to heave and lurch violently. But it's a false alarm. I can't even succeed in vomiting.

I bang the door with my fist, letting out some sort of primal growl. My tears race my slumping form to the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"Don't go wandering off now, if you go wandering off, I'll lose you. And the size of this place, you'll be lost for weeks."

She was right. I had never been inside somewhere so huge before. I didn't know this sort of space could exist inside. The expanse, so blindingly white, the aisles stretching out like highways. You couldn't see from one end to the other. To me it seemed there wasn't an end.

And I was obedient to begin with. I clutched the end of the cart for dear life, the cool metal reassuring to my tiny hot hand. Or I clung to her skirt, pawing at her knees as she examined one packet of cereal after another.

"So many goddamn choices," she muttered to herself, "Alex, stop clinging like that, I can't move. Which one shall we get?"

"The chocolate one!" I yelped enthusiastically. There was a funny cartoon man on the front. Plus, chocolate for breakfast sounded like the best invention ever.

She raised her eyebrows disapprovingly back at the box. "Hmm….eh, we'll get 'em both," she said, giving me a conspiratorial grin, like we shouldn't really be doing this. It made me giggle with glee.

But our expedition seemed endless, and, as children of a certain age inevitably do, I got bored with traipsing in my mother's wake. And once we reached the alcohol aisle her eyes lit up like a jukebox. Like all that had gone before was just the journey to Mecca and here we had arrived.

She was distracted, she wasn't really checking for me anymore and I fearlessly left the aisle's safety, I'd remember it, the one with rows and rows of green bottles. I went in search of the one with all the toys in it that I had spied several lifetimes back.

And even though I found it, and found that orange water pistol that I was just desperate, just absolutely had to have, when I bravely returned, she was not there. There was an old man, wearing a flat cap and carrying a basket, hunched down eyeing the whiskey bottles. But no dark haired women in the green floaty skirt. No mother waiting for me. My heart lurched and pounded violently, my head started throbbing and my mouth became salty with tears. She had forgotten me. She had left without me.

I rushed to the next aisle and peered along its expanse, so long that it seemed to fade into nothing at the other end. There were shopping carts and lists and women with perfect manicures, a baby sitting perched in the front of a cart, where I was too big to now fit. But she wasn't there.

A sob escaped me, I started to call her name. "Mom! Mommy!" Louder and louder, wandering down the aisle, the water pistol abandoned on the floor, a thousand heads turning to stare, flickers of relief, it wasn't their child, then sympathy at the poor little girl who'd gotten herself lost.

The sobs turned into huge, violent heaves. Floods of tears spilling shamelessly down my face. I couldn't believe that this had happened. That one minute I was having a glorious time and the next I'd be abandoned by my own mother. That I would never see her again. That very soon I would forget what she looked like. Had she already forgotten what I looked like? Would I have to sleep in the supermarket now? Would I have to live there?

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, an older woman, probably only middle aged, saw me and took pity on my distraught little form. "Come here honey, we'll find you're mommy." I wasn't supposed to go anywhere with strangers. I'd been taught that at school. I'd known that since I was four, a whole year ago. But she had a kind, smiley face, and she was a she, they never seemed so dangerous.

She took me to the checkout desk where a younger woman asked my name. They wanted my last name too, which hardly anyone ever wanted and they had difficulty getting it out of me between my hysterics. But then she did this clever thing. There was a microphone and she spoke into it and the sound went all over the supermarket.

It was amazing, I thought the whole world could probably hear. Even if my mother had gone home, she'd be bound to have heard it from there, or someone she knew would come and tell her.

And shortly after the announcement, she came wheeling the cart along, looking flustered and embarrassed. She apologized to the girl at the checkout and to the kind woman who'd found me. She thanked her and grabbed my hand proprietarily. She kept on saying she was sorry and how she'd told me not to wander off, taken her eyes off me for two seconds etc etc. No one seemed angry with her.

But she was angry with me. "I told you! Didn't I tell you?! Do you have ay idea what could happen? Alex, look at me!" she held my hand in a vice-like grip for the rest of the time, squeezing so hard that it hurt and went red, but I dared not make another noise. I didn't care really. The relief was too great; she could yell all she wanted. I had found her again. We had each other back. And when we got home she let me have a bowl of chocolate cereal and said she was sorry and to never run off again.

oooOOOooo

I'm lying on the bed, staring up at the artex swirls on the ceiling as I remember all this. Outside, summer has finally surrendered into fall, the chill creeping into the air, the sky darkening with every day. I can hear the rain beating against the window, cocooning me into the apartment with its ferocity.

Paige is on the phone to her family. I close my eyes as I try not to listen to her chirpy conversation. She's talking to her mother now.

"No, seriously Mom it's very good…yeah…no in terms of reputation definitely….and the course I'm on now…."

Blah, blah, she's going on about Baruch and her "new life". Reassuring her mother, no doubt, that she made the right decision. That jumping on a bus to follow her exgirlfriend to another country, abandoning her academic dreams of Banting in the process, that it had all been worth it.

"Yeah…she's fine…" her voice has dipped now as I suspect they are talking about me.

I sigh, momentarily lost in the thought that I should really phone my mother, been putting it off for ages…How quickly our hearts forget…how little it takes to break them over and over again….

The muffled talking has ceased. She's said her goodbyes now. I'm fleetingly hoping she won't come in here, but then the creak on the door as she does.

It's hard to find the words anymore, when we're all alone like this. We're too intimate for inane conversation, but too distant for anything deeper. It's all my fault. I know it is. I've been keeping her at arms length ever since, ever since…when was it? I can't even remember how this happened. What changed, what suddenly overtook me, made me realize, the bareness of everything, the futility, the emptiness, the pointlessness, the numbness, the dumbness, the superficiality, the absurdity, the rottenness, the decaying, the overwhelming, the underwhelming, the bizarre, the bland, the impossibility, the implausibility, the overcrowded, the solitary, the absolute and unending void of purposelessness that had reached out and filled me to breaking point. We came from nothing. We go into nothing. And what lay between was…was…

"Alex," she whispers my name, she snakes her arm around me, over my stomach, under the hem of my hoodie, warm fingers tickling cold skin. My eyes continue to trail over the swirling patterns on the ceiling, ignoring her touch, as it creeps further down, down the length of the zipper on my jeans, down beneath the waistband, down into the very core of me.

Her gaze is so intent I can feel her stare burning into the side of my head. Beseeching, challenging, craving acknowledgment, demanding entry. She swallows hard. I lick my lips.

"Do you remember…" she begins and I screw up my eyes and try to block out her voice. I don't remember. I don't want to remember.

"Do you remember, that day at your home…our first time together?" her voice quivers slightly, her hand dips lower. The combination of soft words, harsh actions makes me intake my breath suddenly.

"Yeah," my voice comes out in a rasp, hours since I've spoken.

"I was so scared that afternoon, y'know. I had been so…I mean, just the thought had terrified me," she's easing in, she's teasing me, quick and confident, her tone small and uncertain. "How did you feel about it? Before?"

I'm trying now, I have to try, "Horny as hell," I offer, finally turning my head in her direction, glancing down at her through dark lashes. "I'd always wanted you. I just, never really thought I'd get you…"

I have to look away again, because it's not working, the remembering, what had happened on that spring afternoon, what had happened later that night. They had come home, drunk, loud, arguing as usual.

"And now…?"

I glance down, her forearm contracting against my pelvis, her hand moving rhythmically, persistently.

"You've got me Alex. I'm right here."

The trouble is, I can't really feel anything. Not anymore. She continues for several minutes more, each minute the wound getting deeper, the movement getting more desperate. I've managed to unconsciously shut her out of ever part of me. I want to take her hand away. I want to yell at her to stop. I want to burst into tears. I want to scream at her, _Don't you see? I'm not here anymore! I'm not here! _And then to just float away, take my exit, quietly rise up from the bed, through the ceiling, dissolving into the air, into nothing. But I can't do any of these things.

I clench my eyes shut, cover them with my hand. She gets the message, she retracts her hand and quietly, with as much dignity as she can muster, slides off the bed. I peak through my fingers back at her. A look of horror, of disbelief, of disgust all vying for a place on her face. She leaves the room without another word. The creak of the door marking her departure.

oooOOOooo

I'm in the office, at my desk, crunching numbers mindlessly. The minutes ticking over and over. She'd phoned me up from campus, suggested we meet for lunch, she was coming over, we needed to talk about things, she said, I'll meet you outside, I said.

We needed to talk. About things. Things. We had never needed to talk before. It was just something that we did. Endlessly at first. Questions, jokes, quickfired back and forth. What's your middle name? Who was your first kiss? You own _how many_ pairs of shoes? Inconsequential observations that you secretly remembered and took home to unwrap and examine. That's a great colour on you, worn whenever I wanted to get laid, I've really got to catch up on some studying, she has her period don't ask to stay over, everything comes alive in spring don't you think? Buy her some flowers, tell her she's beautiful.

She was beautiful. She is still beautiful. And now, we need to Talk about things.

I finish typing an email to our sales division manager, glancing down at the clock display. I'm a few minutes late. I lean down to pick up my bag when I hear my name being spoken, faint, in the distance. I turn to see Paige standing by the door with her back to me, talking to one of my co-workers no doubt.

"Can I help you?" she's asked.

"Hi, yes, er- I'm looking for Alex Nunẽz," she replies. She's wearing that long brown coat I bought for her the other weekend, when we were over at the Village. Apparently it's very boho chic. I don't really know what this means, but it seems to involve wearing lots of different kinds of layers and accessories.

"She's just this way," the woman replies. The woman, whose voice is clearer now, clear and surprisingly familiar, dear God, no…

There's an image I thought I'd never see, the one from my nightmares. June and Paige, side by side, walking towards me. But Paige is looking blissfully unaware, cheerful, removed, a student, a child, next to…. her. Poised, predatory, the spider of the web.

I rise in panic as they approach. Just get them away from each other, as quickly as possible. "I'm late, I know," I say immediately before Paige has a chance to speak.

"It was too cold to wait outside," she replies, then turning to June, "thanks."

She glances at me. June glances at me. No one's moving, this is the bit where I make introductions.

I try and usher Paige away with my hand hovering just above her elbow, no actual contact.

"Alex, before you go, sorry," she's interrupting, she's doing it on purpose, damn her! "I need the Merger figures done for this afternoon." She looks at me pointedly. Merger was a made-up name, a code we used to use.

"Okay," I say quickly, dismissively, eager to get away by any means possible. But then she's holding out her hand to Paige, in that professional, schmoozy way they all do, "Nice to meet you…"

"Paige," she says, shaking her hand.

"Paige," a tight smile forming, "June Steinborn." She turns on her heel, offering me a fleetingly victorious look before walking away.

Paige's mouth hangs slackly open, she looks at me sharply and I shift uncomfortably under her gaze.

We ride the elevator down in silence. But as soon as we're on the street she explodes into life.

"That's her!"

"Yeah…"

"You never said… Jesus Alex!" she's pissed. I mean really pissed. The force takes me by surprise.

"Look, I don't really even deal with her anymore-"

"Yeah, look like it!"

"Come on Paige, this isn't about her," I try getting hold of her arms, which are gesticulating wildly around her, she looks a bit like a crazy woman standing like that, backdropped by the cool corporateness of the building.

"Isn't it? Isn't it Alex? So tell me, are you fucking Ally McBeal in there? Hmm?" She stands with her hands on her hips, her tone severe, her stare deadly.

"No, I'm not," I hiss through my teeth, "Look, don't you think it would be better if we discuss this at home?" I'm trying desperately to remain calm, to keep my voice low. One of us has to.

"Yes, yes I do," she shrieks, "I think it would be much better to be able to discuss our lovelife at home. Problem is, you never _talk _at home Alex. About anything. And I have tried, God knows, I try all the time and you just…" she raises her hands in frustration then lets them collapse against her sides, despairingly.

"Well so have I," I growl back, defensively.

"Yeah, well, if this is you trying then…then…"

"Then what?"

"Then we have a serious problem." She says it reflexively. The "we" part clearing referring to just me. Her glare becomes less angry, but more determined.

"I don't know what to do anymore Alex," her voice is lower now, serious, sincere.

And everything aches inside my being. Everything seems on the verge of release. It's inevitable. I know my lines, I've been memorizing them since we got together. Since before, even.

"I don't know either…"

She looks down at the ground, arms crossed, pawing the sidewalk absently with her foot. "I think…I think I'm going to stay at a friend's for a while."

She looks back at me, to confirm that I heard her, that I understand what she's saying to me. But all I can hear is that catch in her voice, it seems to coincide with the precise second I feel my heart starting to crack apart.


	10. Chapter 10

**a/n: Okay, there is just this chapter and then the epilogue afterwards. And then that really is the end to the whole saga...promise. Thank you to everyone who read this far and to those who left feedback. It is much appreciated.**

**Chapter Ten**

When I return to the apartment, for eventually I must return, I know this, it feels naked, barren, suffocatingly quiet. It feels like a set dressed without actors. It feels like no one really lives here.

I reluctantly, yet magnetically drift to the bedroom. My bedroom. Our bedroom…my bedroom…

It still smells of her, that fresh, perfumed, newly shampooed smell. I open the closet, it looks empty. Of course my clothes are still there. I open the drawers, one by one, they stare back at me, half-full, mocking me. She hasn't taken everything, but she may as well have.

I dissolve into the bed, too weary to take my jacket off, too oblivious to let go of the strap on my bag. The whole hushed atmosphere is identical to that time, that time, when I returned home, when she wasn't there, when I knew she wouldn't be, it would have been impossible, but somehow I hoped beyond hope it had all been a terrible mistake, a sick joke, a nightmare from which I would awake. Because even though she was gone, her presence was everywhere. In the creases in the coach, in the chip on that red coffee cup she used, in the disgusting drapes she had brought home years ago that now had the smell of cigarettes embedded in them, in her soap, in the water line that marked the tub, the hair left in her brush on the dresser. Everywhere I looked, stepped, breathed, there she was. And somehow it didn't scare me, it didn't creep me out, it was a comfort. Because if these things could still exist then maybe…maybe… I mean, how could a plastic, 99cents comb with two teeth missing, how on earth could that still be here, how could a piece of junk possibly outlast my mother. It made no sense.

It still doesn't. And now Paige, gone, away from me, taken her stuff, yet still I can feel her, she's here, but she's not here…

I sit on the bed, eyes fixed on the wall, motionless, I am a clean sheet of paper, I am the period at the end of a sentence. I am the space between the words. I sit through the dark descending over the city. I sit through Jaime coming home, turning the light on in my room, making me wince as it stings my eyes. I sit through his questions, his puzzlement. Why are you sitting in the dark? Where's Paige? Alex? Alex? Why won't you talk to me? I sit through his phone call to Diana, asking her to come over. I sit through him offering me a beer. I sit through her arrival, her arm around my shoulder, both of them refusing to leave me alone. But eventually they do leave me alone. I'm here for you Alex, he says. He's here. But I am not. I sit through the night ebbing away into hazy blue dawn. I sit through my alarm going off. I sit through Jaime making another phone call, making some appointment, telling me this guy's a real professional. Whatever. I'm not here anymore. I sit and wait. Wait for them to leave, to leave me the fuck alone.

He keeps on trying to get me to eat something. Why do people do that? Like, wow, if she eats, if she can chew food, swallow it, then she can't be a crazy, surely. She must eat, she must keep her strength up.

"Count Chocula."

"What?"

It's the first thing I've said since he found me like this.

"I feel like a bowl of Count Chocula."

"What? You mean the cereal?" his bafflement is ingrained in every crevice on his face.

"Yes."

"We - we don't have any, I don't think…" he trails off then looks back at me, hesitantly, uncertain.

"Alex, if I go to the store and get you some, you're not… you won't do anything stupid…will you? If I go, I'll be ten minutes. But…you'll stay right here, won't you?"

He's doing that serious look I hate. Not that I blame him. My behaviour is anything but normal right now. Even I know that. It makes me feel less insane, that I know it.

"Go to the store. I'll wait right here. I'm not going to do anything stupid." I repeat the words emotionlessly, churning them out like a metronome. He leaves, he backs out the door looking at me.

He's worried that I'm going to try and hurt myself, kill myself possibly. He doesn't need to worry about that. What I have in mind is far more stupid.

oooOOOooo

I've never been to her apartment before. It's an old brownstone, fashionably elegant, totally and typically her.

"Come in," she offers coolly, not a hair misplaced on her head. She reaches out to my shoulder, brushes an invisible piece of lint off it.

This is what I want. Someone who doesn't care how I'm feeling, what I'm doing. Someone more preoccupied with the dust that threatens to descend on her eyelashes.

She saunters through her dinning room, absently running her hand over the edge of the mahogany table. I numbly follow.

"Where's your husband?" I ask casually, more for something to say than anything else.

"Dubai. Business," she offers with her evil smile, turning with a flourish, opening the door to her bedroom.

She grabs both my hands, she looks magnificent. It alarms me that I'm thinking this simultaneously with the realization that I'm feeling nothing.

"June?"

She starts to undress, slowly, seductively. She puts her arms around my neck.

"June?"

"Ssh," she tells me, her lips pressing against mine softly, silencing me momentarily.

"Wait," I untangle myself from her grasp, I walk away, towards the bed. It's the only available seat so I perch on the end of it. She turns expectantly towards me.

I can see the impatient agitation in her eyes, waiting to devour me, waiting to be devoured. And yet, I want to know more, I feel compelled in some way to know, curiosity, confusion, affirmation…

"You once implied that you and your mom, that, y'know, you didn't get on. Why?"

She raises her eyes skywards, than looks back at me, a small smirk of dissatisfaction, then relenting, looking more shyly away. Remembering.

"We were very different kinds of people. She was small-town America. I wanted more. I wanted everything."

That made sense, I thought, looking around at her sash windows, her Ralph Lauren sheets.

"And you seem to have got it," I murmur ruefully.

"Not quite," she says, reaching me in a few steps, cupping my face in her hands.

"Did she know that you, y'know, liked women?"

"My, aren't you full of questions today," she's trying to silence me again, her breath hot against my ear, as I turn my face away from hers.

"No Alex. She didn't know. We didn't talk about things like that," she says it with an impatient sigh, like she's pacifying a child. "We didn't really talk at all," she then offers.

Her expression is softer, somber almost, having to recollect what she probably hasn't thought about in a long while. I can feel the blood starting to drip back into my veins. I run my hand along her arm, reassuringly. She suddenly looks at me, embarrassed, like she's forgotten for a split second I was there.

Her expression melts into a smile and she sashays her way onto my lap, pulling my arms around her. It feels warm. The rush of blood gets increasingly louder. "Do you miss her?" I murmur into her shoulder. I can feel her head jarring away from mine, her hands fumbling to loosen my hold.

"Alex," she whispers, "Let's not talk about this."

"Why?" I whisper back. Because now that I'm here, I can't stop it. "I miss mine, all the time. I think I don't, I think I'm not thinking about her at all, but really, that's all I'm thinking about, I can't stop thinking about. Every hour, every minute, every second of the day…"

"Alex," she tries again, "Don't talk to me about this, okay? This isn't what I'm here for, to talk about this." She says the words firmly, but softly, she runs her finger over my bottom lip, looks into my eyes.

"But…"

"Listen to me. I'm too old to be you're girlfriend. I'm too young to be your surrogate mother. I don't know what you're looking for, Alex. But it's not here."

I raise my eyes to her, and I'm surprised not just at her words, not just at how she speaks them, tenderly, with the most compassion I've ever heard her muster, but at my tears that have unexpectedly started to fall. Softly, slowly, hot prickly saltwater, pooling in my eyes. At the realization that all this time I had been lost. Lost and looking and not even knowing it.

She wipes a tear off my face and shakes her head. "It's not here sweatheart."

She kisses me goodbye.

oooOOOooo

I'm waiting in the blistering cold on a freezing park bench in Central Park. It's early, almost too early, only the occasional jogger passes me by. She suggested the time. Lectures, classes, it seemed only fair to attempt to fit in with them.

I shift about nervously, checking my watch constantly, pulling my coat over me. I'm a few minutes early, which is rare, considering me and early mornings, but there you go. For once I had to beat her to it.

I see her from a hundred yards away. I can tell by her walk, by her pink wooly hat. I watch her form approaching, my heart lurching wildly around. The most important conversation I'm ever likely to have is fast approaching. I want to fast forward it, just skip to the end, good or bad, I'm terrified. But I'm ready. At long last, I'm ready.

"Hello," she says quietly, looking into my eyes with a mixture of wariness and apprehension.

"Hi," I've stood to greet her. Will she offer her cheek? No, of course not. Do we embrace? No, to soon.

I just sort of stand there, swinging my arms back and forth a bit.

"How are you Alex?" she says, sounding sincere, implying a real desire to know as opposed to just being polite.

"Yeah, I'm good, thanks… I mean," I catch myself with a faint smile, "I'm…better. I'm getting there. How are you?"

"Yes, good, thanks."

I nod to the bench and we sit down together. She puts her hands in her pockets and buries her face into her scarf, shivering loudly.

"It's gotten cold so quick," I observe.

"Yeah," she agrees.

We admire the park in front of us for a minute, her no doubt in quiet contemplation, me wondering how to begin. I've run this over and over in my head so many times now. But all the words have suddenly jumbled together into a fuzzy mess that's stuck to the back of my throat. I miss you, I love you, I've been an idiot, I want to just blurt them all out. But none of that is good enough. None of that begins to explain. And this girl, this brilliant, wonderful woman, she deserves more.

"Paige, I need to tell you, or…try and tell you…what's been going on with me. I mean, over the past few months. I know it all went wrong. And I know I should have told you all this at the time, but…there was so much shit floating around my brain…I dunno, it-it just got to the stage where… I didn't know where to begin."

She looks over at me and nods slightly for me to continue.

"But, I'm seeing this guy now, he's really good, this psychologist guy Jaime hooked me up with. And talking to him about everything, well, it's really helped. Helped me come to terms with it. Or, y'know, try to. Begin to…"

"I wish," she says, her voice small against the thick morning cold, "I wish you could have just come to me. Talked to me about it. I was there Alex. I wish you'd have felt that you could." She bows her head like she feels shamed, like she's failed me in some way and I instinctively reach out my hand to her. Clasping her arm through the thickness of her coat, squeezing it slightly. I'm touching her, if only through fabric, but still, it's something.

"Paige, that - that was kinda the problem. I mean, it was part of my problem. When you jumped on that bus, when you just took everything into your own hands like that, I mean, all of a sudden my choices were taken away from me. You had decided to come, you were going to live with me and…"

"But, I thought that's what you wanted?" she says, her voice slightly incredulous, "You were happy, you said you wanted it too."

"No, I did, Paige, really, I did. But…Jesus I'm not explaining this well," I scrape the hair out of my eyes and look away momentarily. My ears feel like they're icing over, I wish I'd worn a hat too. I look back at her, so cute in hers. So pink. So Paige.

"I'm gonna have to go back a bit, so please just hear me out okay?"

"Okay," she says with a sigh, folding her arms against her chest defensively.

"When I moved to New York," I begin tentatively, "I wanted this new start. Away from everything back in Toronto. Away from you, our past that is, our relationship. And Jay, and all the messed up shit we'd gotten into down the years and…my mom. My life with her. All my failings. That's how I saw it. That's how it felt at the time. I wanted to forget about it all. But most of all, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do better, a fresh start, a new me, whatever."

"Couldn't you have just joined a gym or something," she mutters.

I choose to ignore this aside. "And when I saw you the night before I left, it reaffirmed everything to me, why I had to get away. Because, I knew that as long as I was destined to run into you, I'd just forever be thinking about what could have been. Asking myself if I'd made the hugest mistake ever. I knew that I'd never get over you Paige. So I had to just get past you."

She looks at me long and hard.

"But my mom was drinking round the clock and, I felt guilty about leaving her. We had this stupid fight before I left. I was forever mopping up her mess, y'know. And she took my leaving as a big Fuck You. I mean, that's not how I meant it, but…still."

I pause and exhale loudly. Just thinking about it gets me going. I know I need to finish this, but it's harder than I'd ever imagined. Because it's Paige. Not some stranger, not some therapist, not some fuckbuddy.

Her hand finds its way onto my knee. "Go on," she says quietly.

"I guess, despite our mess of a relationship, and all the fighting, all the drinking, she was my anchor. I wanted to go and make something of myself, but… I wanted her to know it, to see it. To be proud of me, for me… I had this kinda fantasy that one day I could just come back and rescue her from this hell that she'd gotten herself into. Just, take her away, get her cleaned up, get her somewhere nice to live, away from all the losers she hung around with. Find her a job, y'know, the whole nine yards, the whole dream. It was. It was just a dream… And she never go to see any of this," I gesture around at the park, at the city. "And we never got to even talk properly. About what I wanted, for her, for me…"

"You never said, back in Toronto Alex. You never said about any of this. Why?"

"I was angry. Don't you remember? I was so angry, that day of her funeral when I ran into you on the street. And even when you came around after and we… we, spent the night together. I was so unbelievably angry with her, and you, you were there, you were the respite from it all. You were so wonderful to me Paige. But all this stuff, it wasn't coming out of me, I was just, sort of, indulging in you. Because I loved you and you made it so easy. Please, no-"

She's wearing that wounded expression now and I instantly grab her hand, shielding it inbetween my two gloved ones.

"What I mean is, you made it so easy for me to forget, to just melt into you. To fall right back in love with you. Paige, seriously, you were everything then. And you still are. But, it wasn't how I'd imagined it. I was a mess, I hadn't come to terms with it. That she wasn't coming back. I felt beyond guilty to be relying on you. You'd given up everything and just blindly followed me. It terrified me. I was certain I would fail you, let you down. It almost became like I was pre-empting it. You know people with vertigo? How they're afraid of being up high incase they fall? And you know how they say really, that the fear comes from this unconscious desire to throw yourself over the edge. That's what I felt like I was doing. Like, everything felt destined to go wrong and I couldn't just wait and have it all screw up around me, it was easier, more painless, more satisfying to just screw it all up myself. I was just, totally and utterly lost Paige. Really, just… just totally lost…"

I trail off, my voice needs a rest. And I'm unsure as to how this explanation is going down with her.

She gives a very slight shake of her head and then lets out the mother of all sighs. "Wow," she offers. "Your therapist is really good."

I laugh faintly, she looks at me thoughtfully.

At last she voices what clearly has been troubling her throughout all this. "Did you…did you sleep with her? Be honest with me Alex. I need to now the whole truth now."

"No, I didn't," I reply and see the little spark of relief ignite in her eyes. "I came close. Twice… She was an outsider, there was no emotional attachment there, I just felt, I dunno, I couldn't hurt her, it didn't matter…"

"But you didn't mind hurting me? You didn't think that sleeping with her would hurt me maybe an incy bit?"

"Yeah of course. And that's why I didn't! But, Paige, I didn't feel anything anymore… It's hard to explain. But there just didn't seem any point to anything anymore, really, to _anything_. And I knew you'd blame yourself partly, you wouldn't be able to help it. Because that's how you are. And I didn't want that. I didn't want to fail _you, _I - I…"

Yeah, she's definitely not quite getting this bit.

"I didn't sleep with her," I conclude, raising my hands to indicate the finality of that topic.

She purses her lips tightly. Looks away, looks back again. My heart on my sleeve, my heart in my mouth, where will hers end up?

"Well…. Good." She says eventually, nodding slightly.

"What about that guy?" I can't help but ask. She raises her eyebrows, pretending she doesn't know what I'm talking about. "You know who I mean. The meathead, jockstrap one."

"Who, Dom? Oh please," She says exaggeratedly.

"What? I know he likes you. And I've seen you flirting with him."

"Alex, Ew! That is actually insulting, that you would think he could be my type. The guy is half man half magic marker."

"All asshole," I conclude. She shoots me a look. "So…" I'm hesitant, I'm scared to even ask the question, "What is your type these days?"

We've unconsciously been shifting nearer and nearer to each other. Suddenly the cold no longer seems to be penetrating through to my bones.

"Well…" she looks up at me, shyly at first, but then more determinedly, "I think," she's taken my hand now and the contact is electrifying. It feels just as good as the first time we ever held hands. In the movie theater. In Her Shoes. Not my choice. What a crap movie that was. Although it also ended up being one of my favourites. "I think, I think that you probably know the answer to that."

I grin like an idiot and she returns it, but with a degree of reservation, her expression warning me, "But- you have a lot of work to do," she points her finger like a schoolteacher, reprimanding, yet seeking to be motivational, "We're not out of the woods yet."

"I know," I concede, overjoyed that she's even considering giving us another chance.

"There's a lot you still have to make up for," she carries on.

"I know. Paige," I tilt her chin up with my hand so we can look at each other properly. "Thank you."

Her fixed fierceness dissolves into her gorgeous pussycat smile. "Just consider yourself lucky that I love you so much."

"I do. I am. I love you Paige, so so so much."

And finally we share a kiss like we used to, when kisses were desirous and unpredictable and we were never sure quite what they'd lead to.

And then she pulls me into her warm embrace at last, and I don't fight it, I just give in to her support, her unending, unwavering support. "And don't shut me out Alex. Okay?" she whispers it so faintly it's almost lost to my ears, "Don't go to pieces again on your own. You're never alone. Okay? I'm here. I'm here for you. Always…"

"I'm sorry," I mumble against her neck, "I'm so so sorry."

She shushes me and holds me and as the day gets colder I think back to our park bench in Toronto, when we had met again at Christmas, where she had reignited all the feelings I had about her. How many beginnings would we keep having, over and over? How much rise and fall can one relationship go through? Time would tell. And it stretched before us. And finally, the thought of a future, and not a void of nothingness, seemed once again possible.


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

I watch her now, while she sleeps, the faint murmur escaping her lips, the delicate rise and fall of her chest. She stirs under my gaze and looks at me without focus.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Watching you. But - not in a creepy way."

"Duh."

She pulls me in and takes me under and I atone for my misdemeanors over and over again.

"You know," I say at last, exhausted, ecstatic, ready for more, but wanting to go back to sleep, "I was thinking… now that you've decided we're gonna be together for the rest of our lives…"

"Oh _I've_ decided, have I?" she says in mock indignation.

"Don't interrupt please baby. As I was saying, now that we've decided we'll most likely, probably, almost definitely, spend the rest of our lives together, wouldn't it be a good idea-"

"Alex," she warns, her tone low and threatening, the kind you'd use on a cat about to shit on your carpet.

"I mean, it really seems beyond obvious that the sensible thing to do-"

"Oh _sensible _is it? How romantic-"

"Would be to get married."

"Aaalex," she laughs as she distractedly kisses my cheek and I respond by pulling her into my arms for something a bit more labour intensive.

"What?" I offer, feigning innocence.

"You've been watching the L Word again haven't you?"

"No," I lie.

"And we all know how that one ended up."

"But… just imagine," I offer wistfully, "Mrs. And Mrs. Nuñez." I hold my arm out to the air, trying to summon up a mental image.

"Ha! I think not," she slaps my arm away. If anyone's taking anyone else's name, it'll be mine thank you."

"You see, you do like the _idea_," I tease her.

"I don't know," she sighs, looking slightly more thoughtful. "It doesn't even really count in New York does it? I mean, would it really make a difference?"

"Well, maybe not legally, over here, although I think perhaps you get rights to visit me in prison and half my fortune and stuff."

She rolls her eyes, "Yes, both highly likely of happening."

"But, y'know, don't you think it would be nice, to commit to each other, in front of our friends and family? Those who've supported us along the way. And to say to each other that we're going to grow old together," I was on a roll now, "and to offer a big _fuck you_ to anyone who disagrees. And we'd go back to Toronto to do it."

"Yeah, well we'd have to-"

"And you'd be all stunning in your white dress," her eyes visibly light up at this thought, "and you'd have Hazel and Marco there as your bridesmaids – Ow!" I get a much harder slap for that one, but carry on regardless, "And Jay could be my best man-Hey!"

"Don't push it honey!" she warns me, slithering on top of me, her eyes sparkling mischievously, making me laugh.

"Doesn't that sound nice?"

"It does. It does sound nice," she indulges me with some kissing, and I forget all about this new fantasy, until, "but I'm not ready for that yet."

"No," I agree, already distracted by that dip in her back, the warmth of her enveloping body.

"Because, y'know Alex," she's kissing slowly along my collarbone towards the base of my neck, "I was thinking we should wait until I graduate. The ring I have in mind… that's gonna take you some saving."

She hovers above my face, unreadable eyes, devilishly delicious, yet edging with sincerity.

"I hope that _is_ a joke."

"I never joke about jewelry," she says. "I saw it on 7th Avenue. We should go there this afternoon, I could show you."

"You will do no such thing," I affirm, resolutely making it my mission to tire both her and myself out past shopping time.

Resolutely calm at the possibility that perhaps she is being serious.

Resolutely in love, with this angel, asleep on my shoulder.


End file.
